AFW2: The Heroes that Rise, the Heroes that Fall
by AF Iron 135
Summary: Continuation of "A Fire Within" and the same AU. Based on Snake-Eyes, but with many others this time. What is the cost of freedom and is the price truly worth it? Keywords: S/SE, action, military, Scarlett
1. Ch 1: Spooks in the Night

RATED M FOR MATURE

SPOILERS within! (I recommend reading "A Fire Within" before you read any of this story)

I do not own any of the characters with exception of a few background "extras"

This story was written to reflect a possible real life military team. That being said, expect violence, death, language, and anything else that one may expect from a war story/movie. But it is just a story, don't take it too serious!

As of now I have the first 10 chapters proofread and will work on posting them. I will try to get them all out but time is a big factor for me.

So, here it is, the AU sequel to "A Fire Within". Please feel free to comment on the story, for better or worse! I didn't have an editor, so if you see 1) glaring errors or 2) parts that are disjointed or don't make sense, please let me know so I can fix it and make the story more believable and cleaned up. I'll warn you I do have a few POV shifts and may be a bit disjointed in a few areas; the latter I tried to do intentionally due to "shifting scenes" but still wanted it to flow smoothly, so let me know!

Last thing of note: Like "A Fire Within", look for little clues throughout the story, referencing random pieces from the comics or other sources…

PART TWO: The Heroes That Rise, The Heroes That Fall

**CHAPTER ONE: SPOOKS IN THE NIGHT**

_**Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean (GPS coordinates classified)**_

It seemed as if the clouds stood still as the blades of the prop-driven C-130 tore through them in the dead of the night, just off of the Borovian coast. The only light outside the aircraft was a dim glow from the moon – other than that, they were running dark. Even the cockpit was so dark that the pilots could barely see each other, despite sitting no more than two feet apart; only the feint dim of the glowing LEDs on their instrument panel gave any shred of illumination. As the pilot gave a casual glance over the throttle quadrant, he could barely make out the stars and stripes on the copilots American flag patch.

"Unknown aircraft one nautical mile off of the coast line, identify yourself." The crew of the C-130 was being hailed by a Borovian Air Traffic Controller with a foreign accent, which also happened to be the first transmission from an outside source in over two hours broke the silence.

The aircrew initially ignored the radio call. "Looks like they made us a little earlier than anticipated. Not a surprise, I guess, given our distance to the coastline. Countdown, I'm reading six miles to our target; one minute, forty-six seconds. Does that check with you?" The pilot and aircraft commander, currently manning the radios, deliberately wanted to make sure that the copilot – currently flying the Herc – was on the same page.

Countdown nodded. "You got it, Slip-Stream. Good verification. Looks like we'll need to stall these guys a bit longer."

Coming across the radio, the controller asked again, and also with more inflection in his voice, "Unknown aircraft, we have you marked closing inside one nautical mile. You are inside the Borovian FIR and have not been cleared to do so. Identify yourself immediately!"

Slip-Stream sighed, thinking about his wording and just how exactly he wanted to respond before keying the mike. The tension in the controller's voice was apparent, and this was going to take a bit of bluffing. _Where's Ace when you need him? His poker skills could finally prove useful, for once._

"Borovian Control, this is Rodeo 21. We are experiencing a GPS malfunction on board; it looks like we have drifted off course. Where are you showing our position?" _This should hopefully buy us a little more time,_ Slip-Stream thought, planning on bantering back and forth with the foreign controller until they reached their time on target.

"Rodeo 21, we do not have your flight plan in our system. You do not have diplomatic clearance to overfly our country. Turn right heading of 185 degrees _immediately_!"

Countdown, flying the jet from the co-pilot seat, looked at Slip-Stream for guidance. Both pilots knew that turning right would be a fairly drastic action, setting them way off of their desired course. "Fifty-six more seconds until time-on-target" the co-pilot verified, still flying the jet with the autopilot system but backing up their position with time.

Nodding, Slip-Stream told Countdown, "Ignore his vectors. Keep flying as scheduled."

Getting back on the radio, Slip-Stream slowly replied, "Borovia, Rodeo 21. Roger that, heading 185 degrees. Stand by, our GPS malfunction appears to be affecting our navigation as well."

The faceless controller was clearly beyond agitated, Slip-Stream knew. Still, he was surprised the controller gave back an anxious "Borovia copies. Turn right ASAP."

After responding in the positive, Slip-Stream took a deep breath. Countdown, without looking at Slip-Stream, commented, "We'll be lucky if they don't launch their fighters on us, you know. Let's hope their air defense is as unorganized as the rest of the country."

"Borovia might be in shambles right now and have a lot of crappy military equipment, but their air force is state of the art." Slip-Stream couldn't help but smile. "Don't forget we sold them some of our F-14's back in the day. Little did our government know they'd be potentially using them against us several years later."

Countdown couldn't help but smile at the irony. "Shot down by an F-14, never thought we'd see the day. We better drop this load, and soon, so we can get out of here."

Slip-Stream, now confident that they could make the time-on-target without having enemy fighters scramble to launch after them, announced, "Crew, we are .5 nautical miles from the coastline, on time and target. Stand by, prepare for sonde drop in…. five seconds."

At direction of the pilot, the back end of the C-130 opened slowly, eighteen-thousand feet above the ocean's surface and slowly angling in towards the coast line of Borovia. But that was all they needed.

Talking on interphone to Slip-Stream, the loadmaster verified, "Sir, the sonde has been pitched out the back. It should give you real time winds and data any moment."

"Roger, load; we have data uploading… Ok, data retrieved. It looks good. According to this, the JPADS is in range – we'll expect it to steer the cargo to the coastline successfully. Let's start our orbit so we can drop our load where we dropped the sonde. Let's just do it quickly." As Countdown turned the plane around, he looked at Slip-Stream to see how he'd handle this one.

Slip-Stream quickly thought up a plan on the spot. "Borovia, Rodeo 21. We're going to make a three-hundred and sixty degree turn here to see if we can get our navigation system back; hopefully it's just stuck in position."

The controller didn't respond. Countdown laughed, "Lame excuse, bossman. No way they'll buy it…."

Slip-Stream smiled subtly and shrugged. "Hey, it's a viable fix for some of the older aircraft with gyros. If nothing else, it'll give us enough time to complete our mission before any enemy fighters try and take us out."

Countdown, still slowly turning the plane, said "Silence is bad. They're probably launching the 14's."

The C-130 continued its circle, nearing its time on target. Still, they had heard nothing from the Borovian controller. Slip-Stream was uneasy, and knew the copilot and loadmaster had to have been also.

"Ten seconds left until cargo drop… five, four, three, two, one… go green."

"Roger, going green," the loadmaster verified, releasing the cargo.

Out the back of the C-130, an enormous crate on an oversized rectangular-shaped foil was ripped out of the back. Seconds later, a parachute deployed over the cargo and the GPS receivers kicked in, guiding the crate to land.

Once the cargo was well clear and well below, two jumpers stepped forward. Both unidentifiable men were dressed head to toe in pitch-black clothing and military gear. Even their parachutes were as dark as the night itself. Turning to each other to give one last check, they both gave a thumbs-up.

The loadmaster couldn't tell who was who – they remained identical and even faceless due to their donned helmets and oxygen masks.

---

It was probably a good thing he couldn't recognize them, or so the loadmaster convinced himself. After all, these were the kind of spooks that creeped out even other battle-hardened military soldiers. The kind of special ops guys that only stepped foot on base to gather ammo and equipment, only to turn around and vanish into the desert to do who-knows-what to who. The kind of guys that had beards. Beards… and a stone cold killer look in their eyes, not to mention multiple kills notched under their belts. You just didn't screw around with them. You wouldn't ever _want_ to. Plain and simple, it was better to _not_ know their business and to stay out of their way… the less you knew, the better.

The first two men leaped out of the aircraft once they achieved appropriate spacing from the cargo drop, delaying their ripcord pull and vanishing into the dark abyss of the night. Two more jumpers, dressed identical to the first two jumpers, followed suit. Behind them, another two jumpers dove out… then two more after them, and then finally the last pair of jumpers leaped out of the aircraft, bringing up the last of the unit. In all, the loadmaster counted ten special ops jumpers vanishing into the night.

The loadmaster kept the crew informed over interphone by speaking up: "Sir, the drop was good. All cargo and ten jumpers made it out successfully. Can't see the parachutes in the dark, not even with NVGs. I guess we assume they all made the jump safely?"

"Copy that, load. We'll let them do the rest from here on out," Slip-Stream responded.

"Pilot, load," the loadmaster inquired, "Quick question. I heard you and the copilot were brought in specifically for this mission… are you guys also from Little Rock or are you from an outside unit?" He didn't _want_ to ask, but he couldn't help himself. The night had already been just a little too… well, strange. He'd never flown with either the pilot or the copilot – which wasn't out of the norm, really; Little Rock Air Force Base had many squadrons and crewmembers, so it _was_ common for crewmembers to fly with others they hadn't met before. Still, what tipped him off was the fact that neither pilot wore squadron patches. That wasn't exactly protocol, even for a diverse mission such as this. Flying over Afghanistan or Iraq was one thing, but over the Atlantic Ocean? It just didn't seem to add up.

Over the interphone, Slip-Stream calmly told the loadmaster, "We were brought in from an outside unit. We were told your squadron manning was low with all the constant deployments... so, here we are."

The loadmaster wanted to ask where they were from, exactly, but he didn't push the issue. The mission was over, after all; the hard part finished. It was time to enjoy the ride and fly back to their forward deployed base.

Countdown, a lot less rigid in his chair – in fact slouching in a way he hadn't before they had dropped the cargo and jumpers, said, "Looks like our job is done. You know, it's hard to believe the millions of dollars of technology that went into this airdrop, but you gotta admit, it's impressive. Who would have thought that today we'd have precision _cargo_ drops, where the cargo electronically flies _itself_ to the target just like a jumper does? Kinda like the precision-guided missiles you old, ancient guys dropped down the elevator shaft back in Desert Storm."

Blocking and counter-punching the copilots jab, Slip-Stream retorted, "Yea, and you were what… back in elementary school during the Gulf War? Barely old enough to draw mommy and daddy a picture of Iraq with your crayons?"

Countdown laughed. "Yea, maybe old man. But I'll tell you what… we've got the best job in the world! Don't we, load?"

"Uh, yea…" the loadmaster replied over the interphone, less than enthusiastic.

Slip-Stream chuckled in agreement with his copilot, getting back on the radios and hoping that the Borovians hadn't scrambled their fighters. Otherwise _they_ might be making a jump themselves out of the plane. "Borovian Control, Rodeo 21. Sorry for the delay. It looks like our equipment is now restored. We're turning right to your directed heading of 185 degrees…"

Still in the far back of the aircraft, the loadmaster finally had a chance to sit. He took in a deep breath, breathing a sigh of relief, glad that the hard part was over…


	2. Ch 2: Reflections

**CHAPTER TWO: REFLECTIONS**

_**Eleven Days Earlier – The Pit (Location Classified)**_

How many years had it been now since the "Battle of Chicago" took place, as the team had called it… two years? No, three. It didn't seem that long ago to Snake-Eyes, looking back on it; he'd certainly kept busy with various other dangerous missions – all for the call of duty and the service of country.

But the masked warrior couldn't help but realize that as fast as time had flown right on by, there were also parts of that very same timeline that made the last few years drag on.

Like memories. Painful memories.

Snake-Eyes stood silent with his arms crossed – silent even for him, looking up with sorrow at the Fallen Warrior Memorial through his dark visor. The memorial had once started out as a mere plaque which hung with reverence in the mission briefing room, but General Hawk had recently taken the plaque and attached it to the base of a newly commissioned memorial statue up by the entrance to The Pit – a statue that had been specially made for the unit.

It had only been in place for a few months, but it always got the attention of Snake-Eyes… every time he walked by it. This time was no exception. Very carefully, the eyes of the ninja warrior traced the outline – each subtle curve – of the large, steel soldier bending down on one knee in front of a fallen soldier battlefield cross. He slowly took in every detail of the large statue. His eyes traveled across from the soldier to the rifle planted end-down, resembling a cross sticking out of the ground. The dog tags hanging off of it looked so real that he believed they would actually start swaying if a breeze were to blow gently across it. Snake-Eyes studied the cross… the rifle, the dog tags, the helmet on top of the butt of the rifle, and the single pair of boots at the base.

Several good men had died defending the United States and its principles of freedom; and even though time in some ways had traveled fast, in other ways it felt like forever since he had last seen his comrades-in-arms.

Yes, painful memories.

Snake-Eyes read the inscribed words upon the Fallen Warrior plaque, just like he did before each mission:

* * *

THE FALLEN WARRIOR

We stop and pray in remembrance at the final march they made

We fire our rifles and render salute for the final price they paid

Even after the bugle blows and the sound of Taps rings true

We will never forget their sacrifice for the red, the white, and the blue

Short Fuze

Heavy Duty

Air-Tight

* * *

_I remember you. Each and every one of you. _ Snake-Eyes memories didn't stop with just those three fallen warriors – but those words rang true for every soldier that Snake had served with that had fallen in battle. Stateside… the Middle East… and wherever else duty called him to go – it didn't matter where you lost a brother or sister. Not one bit.

Worse yet, it seemed like teammates of his were destined to die whenever he took the battlefield, especially when he was in the room. Short Fuze was only a few feet away from Snake-Eyes when the explosion killed him. And Air-Tight… Snake-Eyes knew there was a 50/50 chance that he could have been the target instead.

Snake-Eyes breathed in deeply, and exhaled slow and steady. It was hard to focus on such painful memories, even though he felt that he had to. He owed it to them to do that. To remember them.

Still, there were no more names on the Fallen Warrior plaque than there were three years ago, but Snake-Eyes always made a habit to check it before each mission. He didn't touch it – he never did – but he always checked it, as the names that were still upon it haunted him.

Most of the team did check it, in fact; or at least as far as he could tell. The other unit members also seemed to have a solemn reverence for it. It also didn't hurt that the Fallen Warrior Monument was strategically placed near the exit of The Pit… right next to the doors that every soldier took before embarking on their next mission. There was almost an unwritten rule of silence as each team member walked on by… whether entering The Pit, or exiting. Hawk must have known what he was doing when he had it commissioned and moved to its current location. _Sometimes I don't give him enough credit,_ Snake thought, almost smiling despite his melancholy reflective state. _The old man _does_ know what he's doing._

"I thought I'd find you here."

_Speaking of which,_ Snake-Eyes thought. Without so much as turning around, Snake-Eyes recognized the deep, familiar voice of Lieutenant General Hawk. Snake simply nodded his head in a deep, slow reply.

The general quietly chuckled, stepping up next to Snake-Eyes, momentarily paying his own respects in front of the Fallen Warrior Monument.

While looking upwards at the monument, Hawk still had a clear focus at what he needed to tell Snake-Eyes. "Snake, I don't blame you for being upset with me for pulling you off of this mission. And I am sorry you had to find out at the last minute," Hawk said. "I know you were only about two steps away from the door when I had Mainframe page you through the intercom system, and nothing is worse than being psyched and ready for a mission only to find out you're not going. We've all been there."

"But the fact remains that I need you elsewhere. Another last-minute mission popped up. I have your assignment instructions. Are you ready? It's another solo mission this time."

Out of the corner of Hawks eye, he saw Snake-Eyes nod his head.

General Hawk nodded in improvement, turning to face Snake-Eyes. "Good," he said, crossing his arms. "This one is a little different from what you normally do, but it should be relatively straight forward. You know I normally like to use Firewall to welcome the new recruits to The Pit; well, she's out this week on leave. And Rock n' Roll, he's great with the new recruits also, in his charismatic kind of way, but he's busy in Afghanistan." He took a deep sigh, as if he was trying to find the right words to say. "You know our manning has been tapped out with everything that's been going on in the world as of late. There's no easy way to say it, Snake…"

_Is he serious? Tell me he's not going to…_

"…but you're the man this time. I know there may be a communication barrier between you and the new recruits…"

_You think?_

"… but all you have to do is show them around The Pit; the insides and out. Firewall is scheduled to be back tomorrow and then she can take over. All you have to do is show them around tonight. I know this assignment isn't exactly taking on a clan of ninjas or jumping out of a plane without a parachute but… nonetheless, the mission's the mission." Hawk knew Snake would not take this well; in fact, Snake-Eyes did not move, did not budge, and did not so much as bat an eye (at least Hawk thought… it was always hard to read him underneath his mask).

_Babysitting… really? You've _got_ to be kidding me._

Slow and methodically, Snake-Eyes nodded his head with clear displeasure. He was far from pleased but genuinely tried to suck it up. An order was an order no matter how backwards it might be. Why _he_ was chosen for this mission was beyond him. A list of names of _much_ more qualified and suitable candidates that were available for this "assignment" flooded through his mind. Every time he thought that he had Hawk figured out…

"I knew I could count on you, Snake. Thanks for taking one for the team this time. I'll make it up to you… maybe throw in a few days leave for you in the near future? I believe the last time you asked for leave was three years ago… and only for a single night, if my memory serves correctly? I'm guessing you are way overdue." General Hawk smiled, turning and patting Snake on the shoulder before walking away. "The recruits are on their way and should be here within the hour. Good luck, Snake."

Something about that look on General Hawks face didn't sit well with Snake. Almost as if he was enjoying this moment and covering it up; as if he had an ace up his sleeve in the big game… and wasn't about to share.

_I can't believe they pulled me off a real-world mission to walk around some brand new recruits just to show them where the chow hall and bathrooms are._ Snake, no longer masking his irritation now that the boss had left… and only out of pure respect for the old Tomahawk, circled his neck in a futile attempt to relieve a bit of tension. _Fine. Let's get started, and get this over with._

In one quick motion, Snake took in a deep breath and rotated his shoulders, dropping his parachute and survival vest to the ground with a singular motion. _Guess I won't need it for this mission._

----

_This must be them._ The military vehicle approached under the cover of darkness; it was difficult to spot, at first – the blinding headlights masked the outline and type of vehicle, especially with the bright reflection off of the heavily falling snow. Still, he figured it was a safe assumption that these were the new recruits being dropped off. Snake-Eyes stood still and quiet like an alert sentry. The patient warrior seemed oblivious to the snow collecting on his broad and powerful shoulders, as if he were an old and ancient statue continually exposed to the elements winter after winter.

The transport vehicle came to a sliding stop on the slushy ground. The headlights still shone brightly, interfering with his night vision. Snake-Eyes saw two silhouettes exit the vehicle, one by one.

It wasn't surprising that there were only two new recruits; the most Snake-Eyes had ever seen arrive at any given time was four. Hundreds of applicants were selected at a time, but very few of them had what it took to qualify for the team.

Snake-Eyes carefully studied each of the two new members as best as he could given the circumstances without so much as moving his head.

The first was male, dressed up in ABUs. _Tall, lanky. Standard_, Snake thought. He observed carefully as Tall and Lanky grabbed his gear out of the jeep, watching him swing it over his shoulder with an awkward balance.

Snake let out a quiet moan of disappointment as tall and lanky seemed to be struggling with the weight of the over-sized gear. _NOT infantry… clearly. This one must really have a special talent if he made _this_ team. Computer specialist, no doubt._

His name tape was hard to read at this distance… started with a "D". _D… Daemon. What kind of name is that? Must have misspelled his name with that misplaced "a"._

Tall and lanky… Daemon, walked away from the vehicle and towards Snake-Eyes; behind them, Snake could barely see the second recruit stepping out. _Let's hope this next one has more promise._

The second recruit was a bit shorter than Daemon, but slung their personal gear (of which was the same size as Daemons, Snake noted) over their shoulder with ease and marched forward without missing a step. _Better, _Snake thought.

Daemon was clearly nervous as he stood in front of Snake-Eyes, standing motionless at attention. He was already sweating despite the cold frigid air – most likely from nervousness and the strain of carrying the big bag; even his glasses were fogging up from his own body heat, but he dared not move so much as an inch in order to wipe them clean. Snake couldn't help but smile underneath his mask… a smile hidden to Daemon. _Poor guy. First day always sucks. Well, we'll get you inside as soon as the second recruit steps up so you don't get sick when your sweat freezes to your body_.

Snake could now tell that the second recruit was wearing an Army dress uniform; whoever it was walked straight and tall, with an air of confidence.

He couldn't read the name tag on this one as quickly as he read Daemons nametape since it was a little smaller and darker. _Typical._ Dress uniforms always had smaller writing than the ABU nametapes, and the shinier background actually made it harder to read at night.

But when she stepped up, side by side with Daemon, it became a little easier to read. He felt his neck straining forward as he did a double-take… _No, I must have read it wrong._

The jeep drove off, leaving the two recruits side by side with the warrior in black. He sighed with relief; without the blinding glare of the headlights he could see them both much more clearly.

His eyes refocused on the second recruit as his eyesight adjusted, forgetting Daemon was even there. Reading her name tag for a third time, and looking up at her face, there was no mistaking who she was.

Every hair on the back of Snake-Eyes neck stood up as if struck with a serious case of déjà-vu.

_Scarlett…_

Snake-Eyes initial thought… when his knees regained full stability and his mind was again capable of producing thought, was, _She looks amazing._

She did. Her vibrant red hair was shorter, falling just past her chin – part of the reason (along with the darkness and blinding headlights) Snake-Eyes didn't initially recognize her. But he should have... _How did I miss it?_ She still had the same tilt to her smile, and she still held her chin high, like a little lady. She was a little taller than he remembered – she was a little leaner than he remembered, too. Her cheekbones remained high and elegant, her eyes like jewels in the beautiful frame of her face.

Snake-Eyes second thought was, _What__ is going on?!_ He'd had several dreams of Shana before, but… this was simply too surreal to be one of his dreams. He could barely move. It felt like he couldn't breathe; had he not been able to see the constant cold fog that his breath generated in the chilly nighttime air, he would have truly believed that his breathing had stopped altogether.

The red-headed recruit stood before Snake-Eyes, her emerald eyes looking straight through his black visor and into his eyes.

Daemon, quite uncertain of himself and a bit uncertain of how to respond to the mysterious man in black, whipped out a sharp, crisp salute… snapping Snake-Eyes back to reality.

Snake-Eyes, seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, turned his head slowly from recruit number two to recruit number one and stared at Daemon… making absolutely no other motion – not even blinking – let alone giving a response to his salute.

Scarlett, turning to Daemon, let out a quiet laugh. Her slender hand reached up to Daemons hand, gently pushing it back downwards to his side, whispering in his ear, "he might deserve a salute, but he's enlisted, not an officer."

Looking at Scarlett, and then Snake-Eyes… and then back to Scarlett, Daemon seemed even more confused.

Judging by his body language, Scarlett could tell that he wanted to ask, "How can you tell??"

Scarlett smiled softly. Snake-Eyes didn't exactly have any rank displayed on his all-black uniform… if one could even call it a true military uniform. Answering his unasked question, she quietly told Daemon, "Trust me on this one…"

----

Snake-Eyes initial reaction was to brush the snow out of Shana's red hair now that they were inside The Pit, gradually warming up, but somehow… he kept his hand in check, as difficult as that was to do. He practically had to turn his hand into a fist and lock it against the side of his body to prevent it from popping up. After all, this woman in front of him that he once knew as a young girl now had three golden chevrons – she was an E-5 in the United States Army. He couldn't believe how quickly she had achieved the rank of Sergeant… then again, he didn't even realize she had joined the military. As if that wasn't enough, she proudly displayed a Ranger patch on her uniform.

She was just a little older, a little tougher, and a little more experienced than she once was before. In fact, judging by her name tape, she was now known as Scarlett – her unit code name. But Snake-Eyes couldn't help but remember several years back with an almost primeval pain the way she'd looked with her face turned upwards to him, soft-eyed, streaked by dust and tears: _"But if there's any way I can be someone that people can count on to have their back… someone like you, or Stalker, or… or any of your team, not someone who has to be rescued and dragged around crying… that's the kind of person I want to be."_

"_Someone like you, or Stalker, or any of your team."_

Though that moment had occurred years ago, he remembered it as if it were only yesterday. Not for a moment had Snake-Eyes thought she'd meant it literally.

Snake-Eyes should have been angry. He should have been downright _furious_. He had been corresponding with her over the last three years while she was _supposedly_ taking law classes at Yale and working on her law degree. Apparently when she said she was "at class", it had a completely different meaning. Of course, he knew it was deliberate, intentional deception – no _way_ she could write this one off as a genuine accident or miscommunication. She simply threw him an intentional curve ball he was _not_ expecting, nor was he willing to handle. At least gracefully.

He could feel his body heat intensifying, and not because they were out of the snow and inside a warm, heated room. All traces of snow on his uniform had melted away and became nothing more than water drops – most likely, because of his boiling blood and increased body temperature.

And Hawk…! He _had_ to have known about this as the unit Commander… which also explained why he was acting strange earlier. But why he didn't tell Snake-Eyes she was coming… _He set me up._

Snake-Eyes crossed his arms, took a half-step forward, and tilted his head a degree or two down – the way a cobra might look downward at its prey the moment before it strikes. Looking down at Shana… Scarlett, his icy gaze could practically be seen through his visor. His body motion was easy to express; and, he knew, it was even easier for her to read.

Without so much as raising a finger – let alone communicating via American Sign Language – his stance, raised shoulders, tightened biceps and the steam coming off of his body all conveyed one word in unison:

_EXPLAIN__._

Daemon actually lost his military bearing and took a step back. If he was uncomfortable before… well, this time he was looking around for an exit and seriously contemplating whether or not he should make a run for it.

Shana, on the other hand, remained unfazed. Intimidation was the furthest thing from her mind. In fact, she stood in front of him in a pleasant manner, looking up at him with a gentle gracefulness, turning her soft pink lips into a lovable smile.

"Hi, Snake," she said, softly with her tender voice.

Her voice… now _that_ was something that was familiar. Then her eyes flickered into just a hint of that teasing smile that still sweetened his dreams, at least sometimes. "I missed you, big man."

_I missed you too. I didn't mean too – I didn't _want_ too… but I did._ His thoughts betrayed him.

She seemed to have a way of getting him to settle down, and he knew it. Almost as if it was an unconscious habit, he relaxed his shoulders, and his arms lowered to his side.

What could he say to her? What _should_ he say? Daemon's head was snapping back and forth with the force with which he was looking between them, still subconsciously leaning away ever so slightly from Snake-Eyes. As if Tall and Lanky couldn't stop himself, he blurted, "Uh… you already know him, Sergeant?"

Shana burst out in a delighted peal of laughter. And, much to his own surprise, Snake-Eyes found himself smiling, too.

*We've… met,* he signed, to the puzzled Daemon, still looking at the redhead in front of him. *Shana…*

She stopped him by raising a hand. "First of all… I guess it's Scarlett, now."

_Scarlett. This is going to take some getting used to._

She grimaced, as if she could somehow read what he was thinking. "Loooong story. Nothing to do with… um… those days. And second… I know you're going to scold and be mad, but… maybe you could do it on the trip up?"

If she was thinking that his being angry was going to stop with an elevator ride up to her quarters, she had another thing coming. Right now, he was too lost in disbelief to be truly angry, but… he knew his hands were jerky when he signed, *So other than getting oriented and moved in, how are you spending your leave before your… duties start?*

But it was so hard to keep anger wrapped properly around him when she smiled like that. He tried… he wanted to be; she deserved it, after all. Did she _ever _deserve it.

She'd always been so distracting, _such_ a weakness, but there was a resolve to her that he hadn't seen before—a certain poise. "At your mountain cabin, of course," Shana replied, sweetly. "You promised me a vacation up there, remember? A little birdie told me you were overdue for some time, yourself…"

Daemon was openly gaping. Snake-Eyes stopped that with a firm look at the boy through his visor. He didn't let on, but it was the only way he was stopping _himself_ from gaping.

It took a moment for him to realize that he'd been speaking in ASL, at his normal conversational speed, and she'd definitely understood what he was saying. Apparently, her telling him that she'd enrolled in an ASL class and started volunteering with deaf children hadn't been fiction.

Snake-Eyes stared at her. She was biting her lower lip and looking away—he remembered the way her brows had furrowed, adorably, when she'd tried to figure out that word, 'vacation.'

But her eyes were softer than that hard-edged emerald competence when she peeked up at him through her lashes. "Unless…" her voice was soft and uncertain. "…you'd rather I spend my leave elsewhere?"

Did he? Yes. Yes, she was a distraction, she'd always been a distraction, and she'd always _be_ a distraction. But…

But suddenly, the thought of showing her his small wooden cabin, watching the wonder on her face when the sun broke over the mountains and painted the trees and the lake with red and gold… wasn't that something he'd thought of, wistfully, so many times over the years? He'd just been joking with her when he'd first mentioned it, but maybe the joke had been on him—he hadn't been able to get the idea out of his mind, since that day.

Snake-Eyes knew the honesty of it was written across his entire posture when he signed, *There's no-one I'd rather have with me.*

He'd thought that their communication by letters had gone well, but… obviously they had a lot to catch up on. He eyed her hands—the smattering of old scars there, mingled with ones he didn't remember. A _lot_.

Out of the corner of Snake's eyes, Daemon jumped when Shana squealed with delight. She clapped both hands over her mouth, immediately afterwards. _Darn it,_ she thought to herself. _I really thought I'd broken that habit._

It was a terrible habit—a cute one in a young girl, admittedly, but a Sergeant of the United States Army—and of course she _was _a Ranger, too —was not the same thing as a young girl.

Snake-Eyes frowned. *This isn't R&R,* he warned. *You're not just going to be playing up at my cabin—if you're going to stay with the team, you need a few skills that the Rangers didn't teach you.*

Her gaze was calm, and surprisingly steady. "I'm not afraid of hard work," she told him, simply, without exaggeration or emotion. She said it in a way he could believe.

Snake crossed his arms again, and eyed her up and down… sizing her up and determining the validity of her last statement.

*Don't think you're not in trouble, Shana,* he added, sternly.

This time, he got more than a flicker of emotion out of her—warmth rolled over her cheeks in that familiar annoyed flush, and a crackle of heat sparked in her gaze, like lightning. Her being angry stripped this new, serene Shana from her familiar face and replaced it with someone he knew—someone whom he'd ordered to run, and who, instead, had refused and instead pulled a crossbow off a pawnshop shelf.

Yes, this was going to be… interesting. Very, very, interesting indeed.

Shana rolled her eyes exaggeratedly—but by the time she snapped, "Yes, _daddy_," in that familiar, annoyed yet sarcastic growl, Snake-Eyes had finally started laughing.


	3. Ch 3: The Calm Before the Storm

**CHAPTER THREE: THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM**

_**Two Days Later – Sierra Mountains**_

Clearing her mind of all thoughts, except for maybe the whispering, soft breeze of the wind and the gently flowing stream, she relaxed her shoulders. She breathed slowly and calmly through her nose, focusing all of her attention inward.

The ninja star flew out of her hand with an amazing speed. The sun reflected off of the shiny flat surface of the shuriken while it spun end over end, connecting with the outside edge of the wooden target – imbedding itself deep in the upright wooden log.

She quietly cursed. _Off center __again__. __I know I can do better than that!_ With a subtle angst revealed only by the tenseness in her shoulders, she tried to disguise her frustration with herself.

A warm hand patted her softly on the shoulder, as if to say, "Good job". Or maybe he meant "Relax." She normally did a better job reading the mysterious man, but every ounce of her concentration was spent on throwing these cursed ninja stars that he insisted she practice throwing. *_Silent weapons, Shana! Silent weapons give you the advantage in combat!* _

He would sign to her… often through forceful arm motions and a rapid speed, driving home the importance of the throwing star.

She knew he was going to work her hard. Sure, the scene looked peaceful: a nice, quiet cabin high up in the Sierras, next to a babbling brook, but… like Snake-Eyes, looks could be deceiving. Still… no matter how difficult she thought her mentor's teachings could be, it was impossible to have been prepared for this kind of challenge.

But she could always count on Snake-Eyes to continue encouraging her. She was grateful for his acknowledgement as she dealt with what seemed like the most difficult of tasks.

She turned to the silent man in black, finding his consolation warming… but unnecessary. "Well, at least it stuck in the wood this time. Only took two hours of practice to get _that_ far!"

The silent man would have laughed if he could have. Shana O'Hara always seemed to keep the mood light, even under the most intensive of training. But the truth was Snake-Eyes couldn't have been more proud of her. Even if he wouldn't let her know.

But Snake knew that it didn't feel like a vacation for her – not at this point, anyway. He knew that he gave her a steep learning curve, but she always chose the difficult road all on her own. She always had to be number one; and if she couldn't be, she'd bend over backwards and do whatever it took to get there. Yes, even on her own… vacation.

Scarlett walked over to the log to pull out her throwing ninja stars. "I must admit, Snake, you DO make this look easy. Give me time though, and I'll throw just as good as you, if not better!" Shana always had that competitive edge that most people found annoying, but Snake-Eyes wasn't simply just 'most people'.

He'd give a slight smile under his mask every time she got into what he called one of her 'stubborn modes' – it was the point where her fiery competitive personality seemed to take over. There was no way that he would tell her that, of course. And ruin the fun? No. Snake was simply content with crossing his arms and watching her in action once she got that way. _Such spirit and resolve, _he would think to himself, _but a lack of patience. You can't be perfect overnight_. _Still, you have spirit. That will get you far._

After all, Shana had been through a lot in her short twenty years of life. Snake-Eyes had seen a lot of the world's horrors as well, but he also had a lot more life experience than she did. He didn't like admitting that he was almost twice as old as she was; awkwardness befell him every time he thought about it. What she saw in him, he would never know. Sometimes, it made him wonder if he misread her signals about how she _truly_ felt about him.

Watching Shana retrieve the last of her throwing stars, Snake-Eyes made a "come here" motion with his finger. Shana went to him. Snake held up a single finger and spun it in a circle, indicating he wanted her to turn around and face the target. She immediately did without question. Taking her right hand in his, pointing to her palm, he indicated that he wanted her to grab her shuriken and get ready for the next round. This time, though, he'd give her a few additional pointers.

Standing behind her and pressing up against her closely, he took her right arm and made a slow but deliberate throwing motion with it, slightly exaggerating a twist in her arm at. Snake-Eyes shook his head "no". Then, doing it again with a little less of the twisting motion – a couple times, for repetitive behavior – he showed her the right way to do it.

Knowing full well that she had a stubborn streak a mile wide, Snake often tried to let her do things her way. Even if he knew a better way. Then, gradually, he'd try to teach her the correct way. Not that she did anything _wrong_, per se… but he knew how to make her _better._

Most of the time she'd listen to him and put her pride aside. She was smart enough to realize he not only knew what he was doing, but that he was probably the best soldier on the team. It would behoove her to listen up and put her pride aside, a flaw of hers she was all too familiar with. As long as she wasn't frustrated with him, she seemed to listen to him.

Snake-Eyes stood back, nodding and giving her approval to throw. Shana stepped up, moving her arm forward in slow motion, practicing her throw a few times before she released the star. Comfortable and ready, certain she could take out that extra little twist in her arm, she launched the shuriken as hard as she could, still paying careful attention her form. The throwing star sailed at record speed, slamming dead center into the wooden log with such force that a large split in the wood worked its way up to the top.

Breathing hard, moving her hair out of her face, she could hardly believe her achievement. She heard Snake-Eyes clapping behind her.

A wide smile crept up on her face, and it took everything in her to restrain herself from jumping up and down in a cocky celebration victory. Instead, she managed to take a graceful . "Thank you, thank you!" She couldn't help but laugh as Snake-Eyes lowered his head, shaking it, as if he wanted to say, "Show off…"

Shana put her arms around his shoulders. "Oh, ok, your right. I'll _try_ not to show off; I'm just so excited I finally did it! AND, I have the best instructor in the world to thank for it." She leaned up to kiss him on the cheek, over his mask. _One of these days, I'm going to kiss you again without your silly mask, Snake-Eyes,_ she thought.

Snake-Eyes face turned red under his mask, but he kept his back straight and tall… doing his best to make sure she didn't realize she caught him off guard. But what he did do was make continuous throwing motions with his own hand, communicating to her, *You did great, but let's get back to practice. Practice makes perfect.*

"OK, OK. You're such a slave driver! No celebration for me; I get it. Back to practice…" Smiling, she turned around to face the target, ready to reengage, discontent with settling for mediocrity – fully unaware of the silent warrior behind her, scratching his head, trying to figure out just exactly what her kiss meant.

After all, this was a different Shana than he remembered; much more mature and womanly, yet still a member of God's most complex creation. Was it a quick thank-you kiss, like one meant for a close brother? Was it a celebration kiss that one would give to any random stranger in the heat of the moment? Was it something… more?

He shook his head, shifting his focus to Shana's throwing form once more.


	4. Ch 4: Paradise

**CHAPTER FOUR: PARADISE**

As they both walked back into the cabin, Shana kept rotating her shoulder, trying to work out the kinks. Her arm was on fire from the rigid workout program that Snake-Eyes ran her through; she wanted to scream, but instead she bit her lip in an effort to disguise her pain. After all, she had to show him that she was ready for anything he could throw at her.

But Snake-Eyes knew anyway. He always knew. The entire afternoon he'd been smiling underneath his mask, watching her beat down her own body for the sake of training. Maybe even for the sake of trying to impress her instructor.

"Oh, my goodness, I'm _so_ ready for a shower. I'm glad you have plumbing in this cabin." Shana went straight for the bathroom, closing the door behind her ready to let the warm water cascade over her body and soothe her aching muscles.

With the training session over, reality slowly came back to Snake-Eyes. He took in a large breath, recalling the way she looked right before she went into the restroom. Sweaty… yet, still so hot and sexy.

He shook his head.

_I still have no idea what she sees in me. She must still be in her puppy-dog love phase. Especially now that she's made the team. How long will she really feel this way about me, I wonder… particularly once she gets used to the unit and starts working with some of the other guys._

It wasn't hard to enjoy the time he was with her, but knowing she couldn't possibly stay with him forever was a concept he wanted to shake free from. _She's young and impressionable,_ he kept telling himself, second-guessing her feelings for him. _You shouldn't even lead her on, Snake. That's not fair to her. _

It wouldn't have been so bad, he figured, if he wasn't so crazy for her in return. There had only been one thing he had ever encountered…_ever,_ in his entire military career, that had been able to cloud his mind and cause distractions he had never before experienced; only _one_ thing that had been able to fracture his focus since he learned the discipline from martial arts several years ago.

It wasn't any terrorist. No, not even the faceless threats of the invisible terrorist organization known as Cobra. It wasn't fear of losing his life, or even the unthinkable – failing a mission.

It was Shana O'Hara.

Even now as he sat on the floor in the lotus position, carefully meditating while waiting for Shana to finish up showering, she kept creeping into his mind. Unable to wholly focus on his meditation, he heard the shower water turn off.

"Snake-Eyes?" She called to him from behind the closed door. "I need you to do me a favor. Can you sit on the couch for a second?" Of course, he couldn't answer her, but his compliance was the chance she'd have to take.

----

She had a surprise for him. But she was as nervous as she'd ever been in her life.

"Snake… you know, I have to tell you something." He could almost ear her gulp.

"Of course the unit knows me as Scarlett, the new recruit, but… well, no one on the team knows about the _other_ side of Scarlett; I mean, the one _you_ are familiar with..."

Stepping out and into view, holding her arms above her head provocatively, her body moved as if it was in slow motion. She couldn't help but smile as she showed off her body… _all_ of her body, wearing a tight-fitting dark red corset and a sexy pleated skirt, so short that it could only reveal little to the imagination. Her matching red gloves, choker, and thigh high boots only seemed to enhance the rest of her amazing body.

It was an outfit all too familiar to Snake-Eyes, even if he had only seen it once before – a long time ago, on that fateful night when he first met Shana – or rather, Scarlett.

"So you already know the name I've went with, but if you even think of telling anyone where I got it from, mister…" Try as she might to make a serious face, she instead had conveyed a sense of passion for the man in black.

Still, even the mask couldn't hide the fact that Snake-Eyes was even more speechless than normal, assuming that was possible. And she knew it.

Snake-Eyes smiled, recalling the memories of when he first met her. While on a mission, he found her dancing at a seedy club under the name of "Scarlett". While her dancing was simply _amazing_, he later realized she didn't seem to enjoy dancing in front of a crowded room full of hungry men. Come to find out, she had only taken the job to help her father pay off the house mortgage… even if her dad didn't know about it. Still, after all was said and done… she had never been more embarrassed in her life.

And she was still embarrassed, wearing her red sexy outfit and boots for him… but not as much as she once would have been. "Well, cowboy, what do you think?" she asked with bold confidence, despite truly shaking inside.

At first, she wasn't sure if Snake-Eyes knew what to do. Or if he wanted her. Shana's heart started racing even faster. _Did I screw up? Does he not want me… did I move to fast?_

But then, once Scarlett saw him sitting back on the couch relaxing (or at least relaxing as much as she'd ever seen him), she quickly realized that she had momentum going her way. In fact, if she played her cards right, she'd soon have him in the palm of her hand. And she loved it that way. Her feelings of concern and doubt quickly changed to one of satisfaction and self-assurance.

She hadn't danced for anyone else since they were reunited – in fact, she hadn't danced since she met Snake-Eyes that one night in the club, and she swore to herself that she wouldn't ever again.

Only for him.

Scarlett started rocking her hips, gently swaying slowly back and forth taking slow but deliberate steps closer to Snake-Eyes. She danced with such grace, moving to the silent music in her head; she closed her eyes and tussled her hair upwards, slowly to the invisible rhythm. Stepping closer to Snake-Eyes, she stared right through him with her piercing green eyes… looking deep and hypnotic right where she knew his eyes would be. It didn't matter that she couldn't see through his visor – she could practically visualize his gorgeous eyes in her head. And knew full well they were focused on _her_.

_That's right,_ she thought. _Don't you dare take your eyes off me, tiger._

Placing her left heeled-boot on the couch next to Snake, slightly opening up her legs just enough to tease him, she ran her hands up and down her body in an attempt to drive him crazy. A very deliberate attempt – the only thing that was subtle about it was left to the imagination. She couldn't hold back a devious, yet enchanting smile; a smile that almost seemed to tease, "_You can't resist me, whether you like it or not. There's no escape from Scarlet, baby."_

Her green eyes sparkled in a way that Snake-Eyes hadn't ever seen before. And that was saying something, since he stared into and admired her eyes quite often, unbeknownst to Shana. One of the few subtle advantages to wearing a mask.

Placing her hands on his shoulders, with her left foot still on the couch, she moved her right knee on the couch, straddling her mentor. Scarlett put her hands alongside his face; for a moment, she wanted to take his mask off and see him – see Snake-Eyes – for who he truly was. She wanted to _rip_ the mask off in a frenzy. But she knew he wasn't ready, and the last thing she wanted to do was spook him like a hunter's prey. For now, she would just hold the side of his face, even if the mask hid it well. That in itself was a dream.

She pressed her body against his, a bit nervous that he wouldn't return the same affection to her. Momentarily slipping and losing her outward control, she nervously bit her lip, wondering if Snake-Eyes would reciprocate… well, anything. Any feeling or emotion.

But as she felt his black gloved hands gently touching her back, she let out a long sigh... half of pleasure, half of relief. Her body coming to a still, even with the imaginary music pulsating in her head, she closed in on the muscle-bound warrior. Feeling his arms tighten around her body, she carefully lowered herself onto his lap and her knees sank deep into the couch cushions, possessively holding the warrior back just as tight.

Leaning back for a moment to take another look at him, she felt tormented that she couldn't look into his eyes, knowing that he would never remove that mask for her. No matter. That fact wouldn't change the way she felt. _You're mine, angel. M-I-N-E… MINE._

She leaned forward with her hands on his chest and sitting fully on his lap, kissing his mouth over the mask as hard as she had kissed anyone before…


	5. Ch 5: Mission Failure?

**CHAPTER FIVE: MISSION FAILURE?**

_**Four Days Later – **__**The Pit (Location Classified)**_

"We're coming to you live from the White House. The hostilities between the United States and Borovia have dramatically increased within the last twenty-four hours. In a breaking development, six American soldiers have been taken prisoner by one of the Borovian Warlords who claim that they were spies sent by the United States to gather information against their country. Information about the soldiers has yet to be released. Officials from the White House have not yet commented, but the Secretary of Defense is expected to make a statement within the hour about this situation…."

Snake-Eyes watched the television with disgust as the screen focused on an empty podium with several microphones hooked up and ready for its speaker. It seemed that once again, the Global Broadcasting Network informed him of the horrible news well before their very own intelligence did. _This is not good. Which ones of us are they?_ Snake knew they were members of his team – that part wasn't hard to figure out, but the mission was so highly classified that he didn't have a guess as to who had been captured. All members of the unit were used to being either on alert or deployed to all corners of the Earth, typically involved in multiple American and Allied operations. From Operation Enduring Freedom to Operation Iraqi Freedom to operations classified so deep that no one back in the states even knew about them, it was the nature of the job.

And a daily occurrence. All he knew was that whoever the soldiers were, they were in serious trouble.

"Snake, what's wrong?" From across the room and walking towards Snake-Eyes, Scarlett could tell something was bothering him just by his posture alone. His arms were crossed and folded against his chest, but the muscles in his arms – she _swore_ she could actually see the veins in his biceps even through his tight clothing – were flexed just as much as she'd ever seen. There were a few other signs she picked up on, but the raging muscles in his arms stood out the most. To her, at least. Scarlett turned her attention to the television screen, wondering what was making the normally calm and patient warrior so tight and upset.

"Oh, no, this is serious. They're ours, aren't they?" Shana asked with a grave concern, understanding the full levity of the situation.

Snake nodded, without so much as turning his head from the direction of the television.

"Do you have any idea who they are?"

Snake-Eyes shook his head no. Scarlett sorted through her mind all of the teammates that she'd grown close to the last few months, wondering which ones had been deployed – wondering if any of them were part of the captured.

"Something tells me we're going to be busy for a while and might not make it back to your cabin any time soon. But that's a small price to pay to get these guys back…"

Snake-Eyes nodded again, still watching the news report but remaining motionless.

After a couple of seconds, Snake-Eyes turned to Scarlett and motioned with his hands, *I'm guessing your first mission will come sooner than either of us expected. I have no doubts some of us will deploy searching for them. In case you're one of them, are _you_ ready?* Trying to drive home the point, he deliberately exaggerated his hand signals when he motioned "you", pointing to Scarlett.

Scarlett nodded without hesitation. "I know I am. _You _know I am too." The last part normally would have been playful, but given the situation she said it plainly and without levity.

But she was right. Snake-Eyes already knew that she was genuinely prepared and mentally ready for her first mission… whenever that might come up. She seemed anxious – perhaps overly anxious just like all brand new recruits were – to serve her country and wanted nothing more than to help out her fellow teammates. Not just for the sake of proving herself, but because she genuinely cared. Scarlett had a heart of gold, there was no doubt.

He had to admit that he wasn't as excited as she was; after all, it was one of his very first missions that ended up permanently disfiguring him, so he knew the risks that a beginner would take. No matter how well prepared the rookie might be, they still lacked something that couldn't be replicated in the training simulations: Real life pressure and the risk of death. _That_ kind of experience was the true way to tell how well one could hold up.

He also knew that tensions between the United States and Borovia were higher than ever, which made every single square inch of dirt in Borovia hostile grounds. All he could do was cross his fingers that she wouldn't be selected and sent on this particular mission. Of course, he wouldn't dare tell her that.

Or, at least if she had to be sent on a related mission, he had hoped that it wouldn't take her directly into Borovia. As one of the oldest veterans, he had no doubts that he would be going; but for this red-headed rookie, he honestly had no idea what her role would be to play, if any.

Borovia wasn't like the other countries. It wasn't long ago that it was once a superior European country, right up there with England, France, and Germany, but it was now reduced to chaos and disorder. Once the old government's regime collapsed like the U.S.S.R. some years back, several different factions were able to rise up and wrestle for control, essentially turning this once noble nation into a third-world undeveloped country. Borovia had practically been sent back to the Stone Age.

By the time the United Nations tried to intervene with humanitarian aid and security, it was too late; several different warlords had risen up and controlled the war-torn Borovia. The U.N., in an embarrassing position, pulled out of Borovia shortly after it had arrived. The country had become too dangerous and unstable – especially for outsiders.

Yet even the warlords were difficult to name and pinpoint since they were often overthrown by other violent factions of the country; it was common for a warlord to be in control of a section for only a few days before they themselves were murdered and overthrown. This made it difficult to figure out who was running each faction from day to day. It reminded Snake-Eyes of the chaos and lack of structure back during his time served in Afghanistan, back when he proudly fought in the United States Army.

Slowly, the television broadcast had been drawing more and more of a crowd. The room was soon filled with several others huddling around the broadcast, with everyone aware of what was going on and understanding how dire the situation was.

Low-Light spoke up. "I guess this means we'll be having a briefing soon. Does anyone know which six "Americans" of ours they have? I never heard anything about their mission."

Most of them shrugged, while a few uttered a quiet "no", but several of them had looked around at the others, desperately hoping someone knew the answer to his question.

Blowtorch had just entered the room, passing through and heading to the kitchen, completely oblivious to the current situation. Blowtorch, always hungry – and one who could smell out barbecue a mile away – was led by his nose. He couldn't help but ask, "Oh, man! Do I smell porkchop sandwiches? Roadblock in the kitchen?? Where my man at?"

"Shut up, man," Clutch told him, pointing to the television. "We're watching the news. Stop thinking with your stomach and check it out." Blowtorch stopped to watch what was going on; the direness of the situation and the dark grim reality had finally sunk in.

_Clutch is here? And he's ignoring me?_ Shana became worried, realizing that for the first time _ever_, Clutch had been in the same room as her and avoided saying something completely and utterly sexist to her. Not worried because she enjoyed the attention – heavens, no, that was far from the case… but worried because the news on the television was serious enough to gather his full undivided attention and pull his eyes away from the female species. This wasn't the Clutch that she knew.

It was only recently when Shana first joined the team and Clutch had dared to – when no one else was around of course – call her… _fire-crotch_. She felt her cheeks turn red; she still got angry just thinking about it. Of course, that particular incident was the first time _and_ the _last _time. He didn't walk upright for the next three days after she kneed him in the groin. A smile slowly crept up on her face, remembering how she dropped him down to the floor like a heavy sack of moldy potatoes. For the most part, he learned his lesson well, but even so he returned to his normal ways after about a week… or, at least a slightly toned down version. He'd flirt with her a little, and maybe call her "babe" or "honey", but never, _never_ again called her… well, what he called her when he crossed the line. (And wouldn't you know, Snake-Eyes was never around when Clutch would hit on her…! She could only imagine what Snake would do to him…)

Scarlett was suddenly snapped back to reality as the news reporter on the television had suddenly been cut off…


	6. Ch: The Captured

**CHAPTER SIX: THE CAPTURED**

The news anchor on the television cut off the reporter unexpectedly. "…sorry for the interruption, but this just in: as we wait for the Secretary of Defense to address the nation, we have just received a statement issued by the Borovians in response to the capture of the six servicemen. We're taking you now to a live feed in Borovia where they are being held; we would like to warn the audience that this is, again, live, so please use discretion upon viewing."

The television cut to a live feed, as a masked Borovian spoke in English, as if he was specifically trying to get the attention of the West. "…an absolute injustice. We want the world to know that these Americans have been spying on our country, an act punishable by death. Upon their capture, these criminals had the audacity to attack and open fire, killing thirteen of our brave and noble soldiers and four innocent civilians. We ask the rest of the world: Would YOU allow these crimes to go unpunished? Stealing secrets that ensure our noble countries defense and protection? Would you allow the American government to send spies to your own country to steal and kill? Killing in cold blood innocent civilians…"

The masked man continued to speak as the cameraman panned across the six American soldiers from right to left.

Every single team member watching the live broadcast on the television were glued to the set and could feel chills running down their spine. The image on the television was fuzzy and the lighting was poor in the dark room, but as the camera auto-focused, each person watching through the television screen recognized the face of each and every captured American soldiers:

Shipwreck.

Deep Six.

Torpedo.

Leatherneck.

Gung Ho.

Wet Suit.

All of them looked ragged, unshaven, and were wearing orange jumpsuits... sitting cross-legged on the decrepit concrete floor. Shipwreck had a few cuts on his face, but had a look on his face portraying an incredible amount of anger which appeared to overcome any pain he might have been in. Gung Ho had a bleeding gash on the top of his bald head; the blood trickled down the side of his head down to his wicked looking scowl. Leatherneck had more facial stubble than anyone had ever seen on the face of the normally clean-shaven Marine. Deep Six had the same neutral look on his face that his teammates were used to; had it not been for the scruff on his face, he looked the same as he always did. He also seemed to be the only one of the six that didn't have a scratch on him.

Still, each and every one of them looked ragged and worn down. But they also looked like thugs.

_This is exactly how the Borovians _want_ them to look, _Snake-Eyes reasoned. He felt an unbalanced mixture of sorrow, rage, and even disbelief.

Scarlett seemed to have read his mind. "This can't be happening, Snake. All of them... we have to get them back."

It was easy to feel her pain and frustration. _*_Shipwreck... he saved my ass on more than one occasion; _especially_ back in Chicago. You remember, I believe. Leatherneck and Wet Suit... Those two are hardcore. Neither of them should have been captured. Still, I can't believe Hawk let those two work together after the last "Marine versus Navy" debate they had. I don't think the bar they destroyed was ever fully restored, and as I recall it cost them quite a bit out of their paychecks.*

"Maybe, but I heard they worked well together on the pirate ship assault off the coast of Africa a few months back."

Snake-Eyes nodded. *I agree. Sometimes those who are most stubborn and full of pride bring out the worst in each other, but sometimes, and under the right circumstances… they also bring out the best in each other.*

He paused before signing again, *Sometimes.*

Quietly, with her arms crossed, Scarlett nodded in agreement.

"Deep Six and Torpedo were two of my instructors, you know... Deep Six taught us maritime warfare, and Torpedo was my actual combat instructor in the water. I thought he was going to drown me the first time I went up against him! I was coughing up water for the next hour. Snake, how on earth did a team with this amount of skill and knowledge and training get captured in the first place? Especially in a place like Borovia? This doesn't make sense. Something isn't adding up..."

Snake-Eyes didn't have to nod in agreement; he didn't even have to budge. She knew that he could sense something was off, too.

A loud, booming voice snapped the entire room back to reality. It was General Hawk.

"Everyone, report to the Briefing Room in ten minutes." The Tomahawk spoke with professionalism, but also with much anger. Everyone looked at each other… no one, not even the veterans, had seen Hawk this upset.

*Time to find out what happened,* Snake-Eyes signed to Scarlett, shaking his head.


	7. Ch 7: Mission Briefing

**CHAPTER SEVEN: MISSION BRIEFING**

As General Hawk entered the room, everyone stood at attention. "Take your seats. And get comfortable, we have a lot to go over."

The soldiers took their seats in the quiet auditorium – so quiet that you could hear a pin drop, but they were far from comfortable.

This mission briefing was clearly unlike the others. There were no slides, no PowerPoint, no pointers.

"As most of you know by now, we sent six of your team mates on a top-secret, need-to-know mission," General Hawk said.

_This is déjà-vu all over. Again with the secrecy. Every time you guys try to keep a secret, it turns out bad… haven't you caught on yet?_ Snake-Eyes thought, wanting to make his thoughts known to Hawk. He knew General Hawk had his orders as well, and that he was taking his own frustration out on the old Tomahawk, but the fact remained that he hated being kept out of the loop... especially on a mission where he could have helped. Sea operation or otherwise.

"You saw them on the news. Shipwreck, Deep Six, Torpedo, Leatherneck, Gung Ho, and Wet Suit. As you well know, all of them have the highest ratings on water assaults and maritime combat. One of them has the deepest dive for any American – which is also the second deepest dive ever recorded, and three of them are former Navy SEALs. Their original mission was to recover Dr. William Bennett who was located just off the coast of Borovia. Dr. Bennett is one of the world's top-rated scientists, specializing in the nuclear and electronic fields. While Dr. Bennett is actually a Borovian, he was able to send out a letter directly to the President of the United States, stating that a faction of his country was working on creating not a nuclear bomb, but an E-bomb. We sent our men in, code named Whisky Team, to get the doctor out of there and bring him stateside, but it obviously didn't go as planned."

"Mainframe, you're up," General Hawk said, passing the briefing to one of the smartest minds on the team. "Brief them on the E-bomb."

"Thank you General Hawk," Mainframe said politely, who had just started up the computer in order to bring up his own briefing slides. While the computer was still warming up, Mainframe gave an impromptu briefing without using his cheat slides. "Let me explain what General Hawk means when he talks about the E-bomb, or an EMP. An E-bomb is an electromagnetic bomb. It was first discovered as a side effect of a nuclear bomb. Basically, if you take away the explosion part of the nuclear detonation, you would still have an electromagnetic field which would fry every single piece of electronics for miles. Of course, with a nuclear bomb, this normally doesn't matter since everything within miles is destroyed anyways. However, here lies the problem with the E-bomb."

Mainframe continued, trying to carefully dummy down the technical aspects of the bomb. "In the last few decades, the U.S. has discovered how to dramatically increase the range of the E-bomb. According to Dr. Bennett, one of the factions in Borovia has just about achieved a similar range, as well as capabilities to launch it over a tremendous distance. We don't know which Borovian faction, and it seems like he doesn't either. It could be anyone heading up this project.

As for the range of the E-bomb, we're talking thousands of miles. Now, imagine what would happen if it detonated over, say, Las Vegas. Every state from California to Oklahoma would lose all of its electrical functions and capabilities. Now we're not just talking about losing our gambling privileges."

"Think about it for a second: No cars, no computers, no refrigerators, no power lines, no air conditioning, no heat. But let's expand this thought process even more."

"This also means no water pumps… which run electronically these days, so everyone on the West Coast will eventually go thirsty; farmers won't be able to water their crops or give their livestock drink. This means no military electronics and equipment, which means no military defense. We'd be extremely vulnerable to enemy attack. I think you get the idea. This would, in short, be catastrophic."

Mainframe nodded back to the General, indicating he was finished, even though he never fully got the slides up and running.

"Thank you Mainframe," Hawk said. "Getting back to the point at hand; apparently Dr. Bennett also indicated that Borovia had plans for this weapon, and given the friction they've had with us as of late, we're fairly certain it is meant for the United States.

"Whiskey Team was set to enter Borovia from the southern coast, in order to bring Dr. Bennett to the United States as mentioned before. According to his letter, Dr. Bennett was not being held captive, per se, but strong-armed into working for them. He was treated well, but he indicated in his letter that he believed that if he tried to escape, they would kill him, so he played along with them the best he could."

"Once stateside, Dr. Bennett would be able to testify in front of the United Nations Security Council, which would be proof enough to involve other countries to join us in taking action, even against a third-world unstructured country such as Borovia. With Dr. Bennett's evidence, and with the E-bomb being enough of a threat to all world powers, it would be enough to spook even China and Russia, so we are confident we would get their votes to take action… beyond diplomatic action, at least. But we need proof in order to do that, which is why Whiskey Team was sent in to retrieve the doctor.

"We believe they were captured at some point on land, more than likely right after they reached the coastline. We believe the killing of Borovian soldiers and civilians are greatly exaggerated – they had strict orders to avoid firefights if at all possible, given the gravity of the situation. In addition, satellites didn't pick up any firefight activity, so we suspect they were ambushed. We are also certain that, by now, Whisky Team and possibly even Dr. Bennett have been relocated.

"If anyone on Whiskey Team gave up Dr. Bennett, there is no doubt they will have killed him. However, we gave Whiskey Team strict orders to voice that, in case they were captured, they were simply doing reconnaissance on a hostage search. We all know how disorganized Borovia is, so reconnaissance is really a viable excuse, and not far from the truth.

"Whiskey Team doesn't have much time left. They won't be executed immediately because it would look bad for Borovia…yes, even these terrorists are trying to play the role of the poor and innocent victim and actually do care about how the world views them; like any other hostile country in a situation like this, they will most likely fake diplomatic negotiations, maybe even ransom them off if we're lucky. Worst case scenario, they will execute our men if they think it gives them an advantage.

Hawk gritted his teeth, spelling out the goals for the teams: "Primary mission objective: Find Dr. Bennett. Secondary mission objective: Find Whiskey Team. This is where all of you come in."


	8. Ch 8: Saying Goodbye

**CHAPTER EIGHT: SAYING GOODBYE**

He held her hand for much to short of a time. As he begrudgingly walked away from her… making sure that no one was around to witness their degree of affection, both of their arms stretched out as their hands held, trying to squeeze every last second out of their moment of physical contact.

Their hands… held tightly together, slid apart from each other; but even their fingers slid across each others, until finally their fingertips had finally separated from each other… abruptly ending the spark of passion between them. Scarlett's hand fell to her side as Snake-Eyes walked away from her, letting it slip out of his grasp. Snake-Eyes walk quickly dialed up a notch as he realized that he actually had held her hand for too _long_ of a period of time; the C-130 waited for him with an open ramp door… waiting for the last soldier to board.

Normally Snake-Eyes was the first man on the plane and the first into combat, but today he was the last one to leave Base Operations and board the aircraft. The others were already either on the back end of the ramp waiting in line to board, or already inside the Herc.

But he had to leave. Rubbing his fingers and thumb together, he could still feel the sensation of her fingers intertwined through his. Snake-Eyes could vividly picture his fingers sliding slowly away from Scarlett's fingers, until the very tips of their fingers parted, leaving them separate… with the last remnant of their exhilarating touch now faded away. Snake, still walking to the aircraft, held up his arm and clenched his fist, trying to recapture that spark he felt from her, to no avail.

Without so much as turning around or signing to Scarlett, Snake-Eyes thought of what he wanted to say to her, if he had more time… and maybe a little more confidence: _Goodbye, Shana. I won't be seeing you for a long time – not until we wrap up this mission, anyway._ The thought of being unable to see her for such a long period of unknown time was difficult for him to accept.

Scarlett, crossing one leg in front of the other as she leaned her head against the door jam and folded her arms, sighed. She watched as Snake-Eyes strolled away from her, carrying his equipment over one shoulder and his M-16 over another. _You're probably not even thinking of me right now, are you, Snake-Eyes? Mission comes first… it always comes first. I understand, but…_ She sighed again.

For so many reasons, she had desperately wanted to be a part of this mission. He was one of those reasons, of course, but not the _only_ reason. Not necessarily even the main reason. She missed her chance to prove herself, denied her "first mission" yet again, and she also missed another chance to be with Snake-Eyes. She was really angry – just thinking about it and remembering made her cheeks start to flush again – recalling the moment back in the briefing room when Hawk pointed to the ten members selected for the mission. The memory was vivid; she remembered how awful it felt that she wasn't one of them, as if she was cut from a sports team during the final round of tryouts.

She was angry… but, for some reason, she felt just enough sorrow to make her trivialize her anger. Just enough.

Scarlett took in a deep breath, disappointed with the way her day had been turning out. _I'll miss you, Snake,_ she thought, regretting that she didn't actually _say_ it to him when she had the chance… just now realizing her error. _Scarlett, you fool. _Her head still up against the door post, she slightly tilted it up in exasperation as she realized her mistake.

Sometimes the silence between the two spoke more volumes than words ever could, and deep down she knew that right now it had been one of those moments. He clearly knew she meant it, but still, she wished that she would have told him.

Although the two had shared numerous close, passionate moments, neither of them had professed their love for each other. She couldn't help but wonder why, though deep down she knew that Snake-Eyes wanted to keep their involvement with each other to a minimum – keep it hush-hush. He said it was because it was "unprofessional"; an idea she totally scoffed at, but for his sake, she'd give in to him.

For now.

But she did have to admit, after all, that there was a certain chain of command, and Snake-Eyes was a lot higher up it than she was. _But still…_

Turning around, Scarlett was startled with an intruding presence; she was no longer alone and had to quit her daydreaming. With one last glance back at the C-130, Snake-Eyes had already boarded and was out of her sight.

"G..General Hawk? Sorry, sir, I didn't realize you were standing there."

General Hawk smiled at her response, though his attention was focused on the ramp on the back end of the C-130 closing up. The Hercules finally started to taxi out of its parking spot, following the marshallers instructions as he waved both of his arms up and down in a continuous motion with the illuminated wands.

"That's ok, Scarlett. You looked deep in thought. You look like you want to be on that plane. Am I right?"

She nodded, very much wanting to have been aboard the C-130. She bit her lip, hoping that he didn't realize one of the main reasons was to be with Snake-Eyes.

"Yes, sir. This is a hard one to watch, still waiting for my first mission. I know I sound a bit anxious, but I've just been so ready to do my part for so long now."

"I see. Do me a favor, Scarlett? Report to my office in… well, let's call it in six hours. I know its already late, but I'm waiting for some important information from one of our major allies and it's going to take some time to get it. Bottom line is we may need your help after all. I suggest you get some rest until then. Sleep will be hard to come by for all of us anyway until this entire mission gets resolved."

"Yes, sir… I'll be there." Scarlett couldn't help but wonder what the General meant, exactly, but wasn't about to question him.

Hawk turned around as the C-130 rolled down the taxiway, preparing to line up on the runway and take off into the night sky.


	9. Ch 9: Evil Incarnate

**CHAPTER NINE: EVIL INCARNATE **

Another news report flashed across his computer screen. This was the delayed tape… the full version that the media couldn't play. "Thanks for the patch, Firewall, it's working..." General Hawk said through the intercom, leaning forward in his office chair.

A female voice answered back through the speaker, "Yes, sir." The normally cheerful Firewall was clearly stoic; Hawk didn't have to see her to figure that out.

Alone in his quiet office General Hawk stared intently at the screen, watching carefully as the terrorists appeared on camera. It was hard to tell where they were… some dark, abandoned concrete building, perhaps. Somewhere deep within Borovia.

His six soldiers were sitting against the wall, all in a row: Shipwreck, Torpedo, Leatherneck, Gung-Ho, Wet Suit, and Deep Six. All of them had shackles on their hands and ankles, and armed guards dressed in black uniforms and wearing black masks flanked the prisoners on each side… standing menacingly over them and proudly pointing their weapons at them, as if they were hunted trophies that had been put on display. This was a crowning moment for the guards; they stood tall, clearly savoring the moment of being on top, overflowing with a great amount of satisfaction.

One of the terrorists, standing back in the shadows, seemed to be in charge. He appeared to wear some kind of armor… armor with a dark gray tint, and also wearing a mask… or helmet – it was hard to tell. Even if he hadn't been in the shadows, his face still couldn't be seen. But his eyes penetrated the darkness. Each one was composed of a soft blue glowing light – part of his helmet, Hawk deduced.

This terrorist wasn't the same one that spoke on the news network previously; in fact, this one spoke in Borovian. Firewall, who had spoke enough Borovian to translate, typed the words at the bottom of the screen through a language translating software program as fast as she could, translating his Borovian speech into English.

Stepping out of the shadows and into the light, the armored man spoke: ...Even though it is our right to kill these vermin that invaded our country, slain many of Borovias finest and noblest soldiers, murdered many of our women and children, destroyed many of our hard earned economic sources, and attempted to steal our technology – hoping to use it against us, we have instead tried to negotiate with America peacefully.

_My ass. It's hard to believe some people actually believe this bullshit,_ Hawk thought to himself as he listened to the transparent lies of the masked warlord.

It wasn't hard for Hawk to psycho-analyze his every word, motion, and body movement – not much got by him. Still, the terrorist had an agenda, and it wasn't easy to see just yet. _What's his angle? Who is he trying to turn against America… his people? Other countries? This almost sounds like a recruitment tape…_

Our response has been met with violence; many other Americans have been sent in to kill us, but we have resisted them. Negotiations have failed. All we wanted was these murderers out of our country, but we can see now we have no choice but to fight. All of you who listen, join our plight. Refuse to give in to these monsters. Take up arms against them. Repel the fear they send you… give that fear back to them.

Hawk had noticed that, as the terrorist moved into the dingy light provided by a single hanging lightbulb in the room, he had some kind of strange attachment to on arm. _Part of the armor? No… some kind of firearm. _

The terrorist, with his opposite hand, reached over to cock the weapon. Let the world know that this is what happens to those who defy us; who hate us and who invade us without cause or reason.

He pointed it at the prisoners. His speech was passionate and overwhelming; the guards in the room were getting fired up and started cheering loudly, but the masked speaker continued his speech, raising his voice over them.

Let the world know what we think of America, and what everyone thinks of America! They try to conquer us with fear… yet _we _shall turn that fear back upon them! NO MORE NEGOTIATIONS!!

Turning to the captured troops, aiming his gun, he randomly selected one of the soldiers…

And fired away, blasting the prisoner square in the chest.

The surviving prisoners tried to get up, yelling… screaming, and infuriated; they were overwhelmed with anger and shock, but they were helpless. Helpless to save their team mate, who lay slumped over, who had instantly died, bleeding out from the single blast to his chest where his heart used to be. Still, it took all of the guards in the room to kick the prisoners back down.

The face of Leatherneck was as white as a sheet, as most of his blood had already drained out on the rundown concrete floor.

The guards cheered, firing their weapons above their heads in triumph. The scene was anarchy. Chaos. Pure pandemonium.

The gunman spoke one last time to the camera, Maybe now America will take us serious. Maybe now they will finally be willing to pay us back the millions of dollars we have asked for so we can repair and rebuild what these… cockroaches… have destroyed. Maybe now they will leave our country alone. America, pay us what is ours, what you have taken from us, what you have destroyed of ours. Or else one more will die. You have three days.

General Hawk felt ill. The camera zoomed in on Leatherneck's dead body. He muted the sound on the computer so he didn't have to hear the cheers of celebration from the murdering bastards.

_You guys better get there soon; we're running out of time,_ Hawk thought, thinking of Tango Team. _This plan better work or our boys aren't coming home..._


	10. Ch 10: HALO

_Authors notes: I hope you are so far enjoying this story. Please review and let me know what you think… not just for my ego but also for critiques on what you liked, and what I can do better. It may be a while before I get out the next batch of chapters, but here at Chapter 10 (continuing from Chapter 1) it is fitting to take a break on this note. Please enjoy this chapter._

_-AF Iron_

**CHAPTER TEN: HALO**

_**Back to the Present Time…**_

It would have been easy to mistake him for a dark lightning bolt crashing out of the sky. Jumping out of the back of the C-130 never got old for Snake-Eyes. In many ways, he considered it the best part of the mission. There was just something that made one feel… alive, standing on the ramp, hearing the wind rushing by the plane with such a loud roar, and even the way one could feel the low pressure at such a high altitude.

Plummeting downward at terminal velocity, Snake-Eyes eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness of the night as he pinpointed the descending cargo making its way towards the coastline. It was difficult to see but it looked like it was proceeding on track and on course. Hurling down to the dark waves of the ocean, he turned his head slightly to make sure his jump partner, Low-Light, was in good form. His dark outline was barely noticeable – only because of the dim light provided by the moon, but it appeared Low-Light was in position. Everything was so far going according to plan. _So far, so good._

There were only a handful of men Snake-Eyes trusted well enough to partner up with on a jump like this… you could count all of them on one hand. Stalker, Ripcord, Barbecue, and Low-Light... that was about it. Since Low-Light was one of his "trusted few", this made it much easier for Snake to focus on his mission without having to pick up the slack of the other guy and worrying about his jump performance. Too many times Snake was put in that situation. But not tonight.

Looking at his altimeter and hearing a soft audible alarm warning him it was soon time to pull the ripcord, he prepared to deploy his chute. _3,000 feet… 2,000… 1,000… 600 feet – pull_. Snake-Eyes pulled the ripcord and the main chute snapped out above him just as he had done countless times before. Snake could tell that Low-Light had a successful pull as well after a quick glance to his side. He quickly discarded his oxygen mask in the deep ocean below as he floated down the last couple hundred feet, preparing for his water landing.

Because the cargo was released closer to land, the paratroopers were fully aware that it wouldn't land in the water. They were a different story, however. By the time they had jumped out, they were further away from the coast line and, as a result, were going to have to swim. Just as Snake-Eyes feet had touched the water, he immediately released his parachute from the harness. _Time to swim for it and clear the coast line,_ he thought.

In the dark of the night in a foreign country along a desolate beach front, a head with a black mask raised out of the ocean with the butt of his M-16 against his shoulder, staring down the aiming site. Water rolled off of his head, shoulders, and weapon, unaffecting his combat readiness posture. About fifteen meters behind him, another man dressed in a near-identical black outfit (with exception of night vision goggles with red lenses on his head vice a black face mask) came out of the ocean waves.

Snake-Eyes and Low-Light surveyed the scene, quickly setting up a perimeter and ensuring the coast line was safe for the other jumpers behind them. M-16's drawn and ready, they stood with their backs to the ocean, flanking each side of the jettisoned cargo and aiming their weapons downrange towards the heart of Borovia.

Rising up out of the ocean, two more soldiers in black hit the beach. They took up strategic positions behind Snake-Eyes and Low-Light. The first was Recondo, an infantryman normally assigned deep within the jungles of South America – often loaned out by his own unit to work closely with USSOUTHCOM – but as an adaptable, solid soldier, he easily fit in any other campaign. Including this one. The other one was Blowtorch, the expert flamethrower specialist who had earned high marks in his own right back when he was in the United States Army.

The two men headed straight for the cargo as Snake-Eyes and Low-Light remained frozen in place, continually scanning the coastline for threats. The fact that they weren't moving signaled to Recondo and Blowtorch that no danger existed… at least for the time being. As they started opening up the front end of the cargo, two more of the jumpers came up from the ocean, weapons drawn. These two in particular were two of the sharpest and most experienced veterans on the team: Steeler and Flash.

Without saying a word to the two cargo guards who had finished cracking open the back end of the cargo box, Steeler and Flash immediately went inside the large container without missing a beat in order to take care of their mission requirements. Recondo and Blowtorch, completed with the first part of their assignment, took up post flanking the box with the purpose of backing up Snake-Eyes and Low-Light.

The remaining four parachuters came out of the ocean at about the same time.

First up was Barbecue, the team firefighter and former smoke jumper, holding a rifle like a soldier but, as an old fireman with old school habits, made sure that his trusty axe was securely strapped to his side… ready to pull it out at a moment's notice.

Clutch, the maintenance genius… able to fix any broken vehicle that the unit owned with an amazing 100% success rate, was right behind Barbecue and also taking aim with his weapon in a similar fashion. Out of all the jumpers, his rucksack was by far the largest one; not only did he have normal weaponry in it… ammunition, back-up firearms, etc., but he also was required to carry a wide assortment of maintenance tools on this particular mission.

Following Clutch was the former model-turned-warrior, Covergirl, side by side with Grand Slam, previously a Major League Baseball player but now a soldier with a reputation as one of the toughest on the team.

Cover Girl and Grand Slam were also armed to the hilt and armored up, like the rest of the team, but the beach was now covered well; their mission wasn't to secure the area, but instead… head straight inside the oversized cargo box and join up with Clutch, Steeler and Flash.

All ten members had their objectives completed… but their mission had only begun.


	11. Ch 11: Plan B

**CHAPTER ELEVEN: PLAN B**

_**General Hawk's Office**_

There was a knock at the door. "Enter," was the reply.

Turning the doorknob quietly… still on pins and needles fully aware that the "new girl" had been called to the General's office, Scarlett stood in the doorway as if she needed to be told a second time to enter.

"Come in, Scarlett. Close the door behind you."

Closing the door to the General's office, Scarlett took in the office scenery and slowly began to realize just how much of a decorated individual the Lieutenant General was. Awards and decorations covered every wall of his office; trophies and various awards from high priority exercises and operational missions lined the top of the desk above the shelves. Multiple framed letters and military patches signifying his accomplishments covered the walls. _A couple Air Medals, a Distinguished Flying Cross… wow, I didn't even realize he was a flyer, _she thought, _let alone a highly decorated one. A Purple Heart? And a Silver Star, too? I had no idea…_

It didn't take long for Scarlett's quick – but observant – scan of the room to realize that General Hawk looked somewhat… disturbed? Upset? She couldn't tell exactly what was off about him, but it was clear that something was on his mind. Maybe she'd find out if she listened carefully.

Two other girls had been standing in the office – two of her fellow teammates – apparently waiting for her arrival as well. It was easy to figure out that Hawk had something to brief all three of them.

"Hey Scarlett, welcome to the party," Jinx said with a large bubbly smile. Scarlett was a little nervous to be in the Generals office; that feeling was only normal. Jinx, however, seemed to have absolutely no worries – she seemed as comfortable as she would have been in her own personal quarters. Now _that_ didn't seem normal. _How could she _not_ be so nervous in the General's office? She's not that much newer than I am. _

The other girl, Mayday, gave a polite smile to Shana. From Scarlett's experience, she was typically a bit more quiet and reserved than Jinx. Still, she had that same shy smile she always wore throughout training. Scarlett remembered… trying not to laugh aloud in the office, how she initially made the mistake of analyzing Mayday's bashful smile as a sign of weakness – something she believed until she saw Mayday in hand-to-hand combat. It must have been during only the second or third week of training; the course instructor went for a quick take-down of the seemingly bashful blonde. While lurching out at a seemingly timid Mayday, she quickly countered and threw him over her shoulder with his own momentum. For a split moment, Scarlett saw her face contort into something… well, sinister. And powerful. Far from her normal timid smile. That single moment was when Scarlett realized that she might have a soft personality, but her fighting skills resembled a mother cougar protecting her young.

Oh, and Scarlett also remembered that after Mayday had chucked the instructor… she quickly resumed her reserved and quiet nature, as if nothing had ever happened.

Scarlett returned the greetings of Jinx and Mayday. General Hawk, clearing his throat, addressed them collectively. He appeared more solemn and serious than usual… but, then again, he was a General, and it was impossible to know what went on inside their heads. "Ladies, I'm glad you're all here. First of all, I know that you, Mayday and Scarlett, haven't been on any missions; and Jinx, you've only been on a couple. Let me get straight to why I called you into this office; the three of you, along with one of our team veterans, Ripcord, are going on a mission into Borovia."

Scarlett's heart skipped a beat. Did she hear him correctly? _Borovia?_ While part of her had already been nervous from the entire America-Borovia situation, she was also extremely excited to finally get involved with a real life mission. Especially a mission of this magnitude.

General Hawk adjusted his tie; that – as well as his tone, posture, and mannerisms – was a clear sign to Scarlett that he wasn't totally comfortable with this situation. "Let me also say this: Ripcord is playing support to you three. Each of you happens to meet the only qualifications required for this particular mission, and we regret that there is limited experience to go along with you. But make no mistake, ladies; this very point was brought up before we decided to approve or deny this mission. The fact is all three of you are highly qualified at what you do; were you not, you never would have made the team."

"That being said… let's start with the briefing, shall we?"

Hawk continued, spinning around in his chair, turning to his computer. With the touch of a few buttons on his mouse, he brought up a Top Secret PowerPoint briefing. Giving them the full brief and clicking through the slides, Hawk covered the mission details, leaving nothing out. He especially spent more time going over the slides covering target locations… including the drop zone and rendezvous point of two inserted special operation teams: Tango and Echo.

"Your team will be known as Sierra Team. Getting you into Borovia will be much easier than what the other two teams went through, as you can tell by the slides. Once you arrive here," Hawk said, pointing to the screen, "you will be meeting a Russian operative who is working with us, code name: Vorona.

"Tango Team and Echo Team do not realize you are coming. Both teams are in silent communication at this point so passing along information to them could be intercepted and compromise their position.

"Now, originally we were going to get the Russians to help out and serve as the rendezvous for Tango and Echo, but they backed out at the last minute and instead offered only Vorona and her information. Vorona is on another mission for the Russians, which takes priority, but they said she is in position to help the United States as a secondary priority.

"It's no surprise that we don't have the greatest relationship with the Russians, but we do have… an understanding. A similar threat… similar goals. Needless to say, we'll take any help that we can get. Ultimately, even though the Russians won't back us up with a strike team of their own, we at least know that Vorona has information that can help lead us to Dr. Bennett and Whiskey Team. Don't take this the wrong way, but this is something of our "Plan B" option, so bring the best you've got. You ladies are it."

Hawk tapped his fingers on the desk; it was clear to Scarlett that he was trying to figure out how to tell them the next part. "As for the mission details on this next and final slide, this one is a bit unique…, and, probably _far_ from what you were expecting…"


	12. Ch 12: Enter the Flagg

**CHAPTER TWELVE: ENTER THE FLAGG**

_**Somewhere in Borovia**_

Snake-Eyes crouched on the sand, weapon in hand, trying as hard as he could to hear the silent tank start up inside the cargo box. Had it not been so quiet along the beach, he knew that he actually might have missed the fact that it started up. _Definitely not an Army tank… at least not an Army tank that I've seen. Those suckers are LOUD, and you know they're coming from a mile away._

The tank pulled forward out of the cargo container with the greatest of ease. It surged forward with the speed of a cheetah, but it barely made a sound. Even the way it looked was remarkable. Considering the tank was only about twenty feet away from him… even though it was the dead of night, it was still almost impossible to see with the naked eye. And what Snake-Eyes _could_ see from it, the armor design looked similar to the F-22 Raptor. _I never thought I'd see the day when they'd make a stealth tank, let alone one that is truly as quiet as this one._

Remembering General Hawks briefing, Snake recalled some of the points of the M155 Flagg Tank – only three in existence, all under ownership of their unit – that stood out. Of course the General only gave Echo Team the basic briefing on the Flagg; the tank operators were the ones with the full briefing, not to mention hands-on experience.

It had a stealth mode that made it nearly undetectable by radar and practically invisible to anyone outside one-hundred yards; it was covered in armor plating of a titanium/adamantium mix, making it nearly invulnerable; it could carry three times the amount of ammunition as its predecessors; its flexible tracks allowed it to climb the steepest of terrain. It even had an underwater capability.

While General Hawk didn't get into specifics regarding the engine, Snake-Eyes knew that whatever was powering the silent M155 Flagg, it had to have been an engine (or two) of technology that he wasn't familiar with. _The Prius would be jealous. I just hope the brakes work on this tank._

This was the ultimate land-based vehicle created with the element of surprise as the driving force behind the idea – strike and recoil… they'll never know what hit'em.

_I hope the Flagg is as good as advertised. But let's face it – a weapon is only as good as the operator behind it. _Snake had fought in enough wars and conflicts to know that. And it was clear to him that out of its five-man crew, or "Tango Team", dubbed by General Hawk, one job was by far the most important.

Steeler, the commander of the tank, had the second-most important job. At least in Snake-Eyes opinion. The funny thing was, when Snake-Eyes first joined the unit, Steeler, Grand Slam, and Clutch made up a small handful of the original members. It had been a while since he had done any operations with any of the three, but here he was, once again – fighting side-by-side with them. Those three guys in particular also made up something of a three-member fraternity; they were a close nit bunch. Always teasing, joking and hazing each other. The harder the pain caused and the more destructive the joke, the funnier it was. It was as simple as that.

Times change, though… and people change with it. Sometimes by their own will, and sometimes because they simply have to. It was the latter for Steeler. Steeler was the commander of the Flagg tank – the leader of the multi-billion dollar vehicle. Snake knew that he would be left out of the banter and trash-talking between Clutch and Grand Slam. He had to be, whether he liked it or not. Chain of Command was a funny thing, that way. Nonetheless, Steeler was a born leader, and would make a perfect leader for Tango.

Of course, Cover Girl was the driver… clearly also an important position on any tank crew, and it wouldn't go anywhere without one. Still, the tank driver was not _thee_ number one position on the tank. Nonetheless, Cover Girl had an interesting background, as Snake-Eyes recalled.

She had at one time had aspired to be a famous supermodel; in fact, she had achieved practically every dream she had in the supermodel industry… gracing the cover of every major fashion magazine from Victoria's Secret to Sports Illustrated's Swimsuit Edition. For some reason, unbeknownst to most, she gave up that life in order to join the Army. Seemingly with no regrets. To an even greater surprise… at least, a surprise to practically all of the men in her unit, she was a complete natural at any job she took up in her Armored Division. Snake-Eyes never did figure out her attraction to the iron cavalry, but it was clear that her skills helped her gain access to her current elite unit far more than her status as a supermodel ever could have.

Grand Slam had a similar… yet very different story. He had given up a multi-million dollar contract in order to join the military and fight overseas in Afghanistan after playing with the Seattle Mariners for a couple seasons. He had played side by side with some of the greats such as Griffey and Ichiro, just to name a few. Every single one of his teammates… both on the baseball field _and _the battle field, thought he was crazy for doing so; nonetheless, his same teammates that thought he was insane for doing so had an even deeper respect for him _because_ he did just exactly that. That's the kind of honor and call to duty that can't be paid for.

Grand Slam and Cover Girl were often found side by side. They found it naturally easy to relate with each other, of course because of their similar backgrounds. They understood each other better than anyone else possibly could have. Ever since Cover Girl joined the unit a few years back, the two of them instantly became close and spent most of their time together. Both were role models of successful, famous individuals that had climbed the celebrity ladder as far as some can only dream of – only to make a decision that would change and alter their lives forever: Joining an elite United States military unit. And, whether it was to give back to their country or whether it was to fulfill self achievement, it didn't matter; the fact was they were here, as a part of the most elite team in the world... even if the very existence of the team was classified. Yet here they were, doing things that were more important than anything they had ever done in their lives... even if they had slipped out of their celebrity status and faded away from the eyes of the cameras.

To both of them, it was well worth it.

Snake scratched his head, thinking of the irony. As celebrities, they were loved and adored for providing entertainment; but as true heroes who actually made a difference in the world, not a single person knew how much they had truly given to their country. Something more than they _ever _could have, had they not joined the unit.

Maybe that was something they should have been paid millions of dollars for… or, at least, should have been worshiped and adored for.

But, just as Cover Girl was a natural tank driver, Grand Slam was the best gunner that the team had ever found, and earned some of the highest marks in gunnery competition ever seen in the United States Army. The two of them had very different roles, but were both born – perhaps destined – for the tank.

And Clutch. His job was important – especially because he was dual-hatted. He served as both maintenance and loader for the Flagg. With his maintenance background, he would be the one to keep the Flagg in tip-top shape. If something was broke, from a toaster to a tank, he could fix it. In addition, someone had to load the guns for Grand Slam. That would be Clutch, also. He served as an excellent combat soldier and his skills as a loader were top of the line – his speed was truly unparalleled. His former days as a hard-nosed, edge-of-the-seat racecar driver... excluding all of the glitz and glamour that they could do without… brought a lot to the team. Even his chauvinistic tendencies and swelling pride carried over from the race track to the military lifestyle. Fortunately, Snake hadn't seen him act this way to Shana, even though he had heard he often found a way to harass some of the other girls. Especially Cover Girl. He figured he specifically harassed her the most just to get to Grand Slam.

Still, Clutch didn't have the most important role among the crewmembers. Of all the positions on the M155 Flagg, Snake-Eyes believed that Flash had the most important.

This was for several reasons. The first and perhaps the most important was because Flash was actually one of the braniac designers of the Flagg. Snake-Eyes rarely saw Flash over the last couple of years because he had been working on building the tank, even though the unit leaders claimed he was away on a long duration contingency. But Snake knew. Snake-Eyes wasn't supposed to know this… no one was, really, but he knew anyway.

With all the advanced electronics and communication systems on board… not to mention the fact that he was the one who could activate the stealth mode, Flash would keep the tank clear from the enemy and allow a quick strike/rescue/retreat operation. This was, after all, what made the Flagg stand out from any other tank in the United States military.

The six members of Whisky Team would have to hoof it on their own once they were recovered, but if they could find Dr. Bennett, they could protect him inside the tank safely and get him to the United States. The Flagg wasn't exactly a cargo tank, nor did it have the capacity to hold numerous individuals (especially since it was armed to the teeth), but if all went well, that wouldn't matter.

All the others comprising up "Echo Team" – Snake-Eyes, Recondo, Low-Light, Barbecue, and Blowtorch, were all expendable infantry. Even Snake new just how expendable _he_ was. But he didn't mind… least of all on this mission where his fellow brothers-in-arms were in dire jeopardy.

Expendable or not… Snake knew he was in good company. As the Flagg prepared to move out, Snake-Eyes took a quick look at each of his teammates standing _outside _the tank. He did this before each mission, as a way to remember each individual in their respective position. Not that he had trouble remembering who was on the team, but it was and old meditation mind trick he had learned some time ago which served to not just recall which members were in which position, but how they might react in a given situation. Some might even call it a character study. But the reason for it was simple: When the firefight started, he wanted to know exactly what each person on his team would do, where they would be at, and how they would respond.

Low-Light he had already worked with, back in Chicago. Snake-Eyes probably knew him better than any of the others on Echo Team. In fact, Low-Lights talent as a sniper was probably one of the reasons Snake-Eyes was still walking around today.

Recondo. Snake hadn't personally worked with him before like he had with Low Light, but everything he heard about the man was top of the line. No one ever said anything bad about him, unlike some of the other team members with massive egos. Recondo was known for his expert ability to survive anywhere in the world… in particular, the deepest, darkest jungles of South America. _Man vs. Wild _was a cartoon compared to the missions Recondo had been on.

The word was before he joined the team, he had spent a good three years undercover with the NSA working counterdrug operations. Supposedly, he helped take out one of the more well known cartels, recovering millions and millions of dollars worth of cocaine. _Anyone that can accomplish that feat, especially getting that shit off of the streets, is welcome on any team I'm on, any day,_ Snake thought.

Barbecue. Barbecue had a side duty of being the fire guard for the tank – putting out any major fires or damage it might sustain should they enter combat. While a firefighter may have seemed out of place, Barbecue was also one of the best infantrymen that the team had. As a former smokejumper, his parachuting skills were some of the best Snake-Eyes had seen. Supposedly Barbecue had seen a lot of action before he had joined the unit – the kind of action in the middle of a ring of fire in the blazing wilderness of California. Barbecue didn't talk much about his life as a smokejumper; originally, Snake-Eyes didn't think much of that fact until he had later learned that Barbecue had lost two buddies on one of his smoke-jumping missions after the fire took an unexpected and very unpredictable turn for the worse.

Snake-Eyes had never had a close heart-to-heart talk with Barbecue… well, assuming Snake actually had heart-to-heart talks with _anyone,_ but after Snakes loss of his own buddies in Afghanistan he realized that he had a lot more in common with Barbecue than he initially realized.

The funny thing about Barbecue was that he often head-butted with Blowtorch, who seemed to be a natural arson. Barbecue wasn't above scolding and chastising Blowtorch on how to "properly" use his flamethrower without setting unnecessary fires, even though he himself wasn't qualified on the weapon. Because Barbecue had been dropped into one too many hot spots, surrounded by blazing forest fires, and lost some of his closest friends, he had grown a respectful hate for the burning flames.

Quite the opposite of Blowtorch, who loved fire so much he accidentally set his house on fire as a young teenager.

Twice.

At least the second time he did it he had learned what to do from setting his house ablaze the _first_ time, and before it could spread he put the fire out quicker than possibly any firefighter might have.

Snake-Eyes smiled, recalling those stories Blowtorch would tell the unit over and over. _Probably why he started smoking, too,_ Snake thought. Yes… such a complete opposite of Barbecue.

Blowtorch even named his flamethrower Bridgette, after some Celtic fire goddess, supposedly; Barbecue suspected Blowtorch did that specifically to spite him. Snake, however, realized that Blowtorch treated his flamethrower better than anyone else treated their own weapons. Except for Snake himself, perhaps.

"…can't possibly tell me you'd prefer _Bridgette_," Barbecue once had said on a training mission, uttering the name of the flamethrower with mock and disgust wrapped into one, "over Cover Girl? Are you seriously telling me this?"

"You heard me," Blowtorch said without batting an eye, gently stroking the side of his flamethrower. "Cover Girl might keep ya warm, but not as warm as Bridgette. Isn't that right, girl?"

"You're insane. You've been inhaling too much of your fumes."

"Which fumes? My cigarette smoke, or the fuel from Bridgette?"

"Both."

Their banter went on like that constantly, both at home in the warzone. The only difference was they were just a little bit quieter in the warzone.

Strangely enough, however, for as many fights as the two of them had with each other, once you got enough alcohol in both of their veins they suddenly became the best of friends; they'd slap each other on the back and share war stories... they looked like two completely different people.

Snake-Eyes recalled that Blowtorch, like Clutch and Barbecue, had something of two roles on the team. First of all, he was an infantryman with a flamethrower. It didn't get any more simple than that. Snake-Eyes was always amazed at how something as simple as a flamethrower was devastating to enemy morale, even if it didn't work so well and had limited range. In general, a blowtorch could be much more than common rifles and grenades; seeing an enemy on fire proved to be absolutely frightening to his comrades even though rifles and grenades were typically deadlier.

Except for, possibly, a flamethrower in the hands of Blowtorch himself.

The second role that Blowtorch had was the clean-up man, or the "Incinerator." If anything needed to be destroyed and erased, his high-powered blowtorch would take care of that, leaving nothing behind. _Nothing_.

As Snake-Eyes studied each of his teammates, one of them walked up to the cargo box that the tank came out of.

"Light'm up, Bridgette," Blowtorch whispered with a crooked smile and a devious look in his eye. Blowtorch had calibrated his flamethrower at such a high temperature that he completely incinerated the cargo box, leaving no evidence behind.

_I don't know what Blowtorch uses, but I need to look into that kind of stuff for myself._ Snake-Eyes realized that the burning cargo box incinerated so rapidly that it barely left a smoke trail. And the smoke that _did_ rise from the smoldering ashes was actually clear – not black. _Military dollars well spent,_ Snake thought, realizing that a black smoke could easily attract enemy forces, even at night. Whatever kind of juice he had in his blowtorch, it was far from regular propane.

Standing over Blowtorch's shoulder, Low-Light quietly murmured, with just a hint of a smile, "Nice work, Incinerator."

Blowtorch chuckled. "I told you before, it's _Blowtorch. BLOW - TORCH._" Nonetheless, he couldn't help but add, "Well, Incinerator is kind of a cool name. Maybe I should have chosen that name instead. Well, too late for that now. Maybe I'll change Bridgette's name to Incinerator. No… you just can't change the name of one you care about so deeply, just like that; true love doesn't work that way. We'll stick with Bridgette…"

Barbecue rolled his eyes.

Steeler popped open the hatch of the tank and tapped the side of his helmet, indicating that Flash was ready to communicate with them. The soldiers outside the tank hooked up their earpieces.

After getting their initial radio checks, Flash told Steeler, "Ok, the Flagg is ready. All checklists complete."

With a thumbs-up from all four crewmembers, Steeler spoke to both Tango and Echo Teams on the intercom: "Tango Team is ready. Time to move out."

_Easy for you to say, Steeler. We're going to a rendezvous point in an enemy country in order to sit and wait for our contact like sitting ducks._ While Snake-Eyes was leery of this mission, he was willing to do whatever it took to find his missing teammates, and hopefully the scientist as well.

Quietly, Echo Team took up their positions around the Flagg surrounding the tank and marched forward with weapons in hand; the M155 Flagg silently moved forward in the middle of their formation. Both teams vanished under the night sky as they pressed ahead, deep into a foreign country where they were far from welcome.


	13. Ch 13: Ladies Night

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN: LADIES NIGHT **

Sitting in the back of the limousine, her legs crossed and pulling down the hem of her very short black and silver evening gown, Scarlett couldn't believe what she was doing for her first mission.

General Hawk was right. This was _far_ from what she had expected. Or even _wanted_. Reaching up her short hemline and between her legs – more out of instinct, than anything – she made sure her firearm was tucked away (for the twentieth time). Scarlett shook her head as she looked outside the window watching the green trees pass them by along on the highway. Still, she tried to be grateful to be on her first mission. _Well, they say "Be careful what you ask for",_ she thought to herself. _They were right…_

Of course, as she watched Ripcord drive them, she realized that saying that he was less than thrilled with this mission was a huge understatement. Not that she could blame him; who _would _want to play the chauffeur to three rookie girls? She wanted to ask, "What did you do to piss off General Hawk?" But she thought better of it at the last minute, seeing as he still had more experience than the three girls put together.

Scarlett looked over as Mayday adjusted the front of her knee-length blue dress, trying to keep her breasts from spilling out. _Apparently Paige isn't used to wearing evening dresses, either. Glad it's not just me. _Mayday seemed to be content, happy to do her part. Scarlett almost pitied her naivety, as this was only an intelligence gathering operation. Then again, maybe Mayday was just happy to finally be doing something. "Ready for this one, Paige?" Shana asked her. Mayday smiled a bright, chipper smile in return, winking at her. "Of course! Just glad we can do our part."

Scarlett smiled back; Paige did seem truly grateful to be on this one. _Maybe I should, too._ It was hard for her to feel the same way, though. This mission was important, yes; but action would be almost non-existent and it would most likely be over before they knew it... even in a place as volatile as Borovia. _Oh well,_ Scarlett thought. _I guess I have to start somewhere and build up my experience. Take notes, Shana._

Jinx, on the other hand, was something of a mystery. She seemed to have all the confidence in the world. Just like Scarlett, she wasn't happy with her attire… but vocalized it.

Loudly.

"Can you believe they dressed us up like this to sneak in as a part of the upper-class Harem? This Vorona better have some good information," Jinx said, adjusting her own red gown, which felt a little too tight (and a lot too short, in her opinion) to her body. She had a habit of fidgeting with her earrings; it was clear to Scarlett that Jinx was very unaccustomed to wearing jewelry. Had her earrings not had a hidden microphone in her earrings, allowing Ripcord to collect audio information, Scarlett guessed that Jinx would have ripped them out of her ears by this point. This also held true for the red jeweled eye-shaped necklace with the tiny camera inside.

Mayday seemed the most comfortable of the three girls… and as far as Scarlett could tell, looked the best out of the three in her blue evening dress. Nonetheless, Mayday did agree with Jinx. "Tell me about it," Mayday said, setting down the folder with the mission information and photographs of their contact Vorona along with a sketchy picture of Dr. Walker, tired from studying it for the last several hours. Uncrossing her legs, she added, "This Dr. Walker sounds like an extremely vain and twisted person. I mean, really, who on earth has a mansion full of women all to himself? Not to mention, who could even _afford_ that?"

Scarlett tried to stifle a laugh, but Jinx was a little more blunt. "Have we forgotten who Mr. Heffner is, honey?"

Paige shook her head, "Oh yeah… good point. I guess I didn't think of it since our attire is… quite different, in that respect. Could be worse, right? At least we're not wearing bikini's right now!" For the first time, all three girls laughed. It was taking some time, but slowly they were finally starting to feel like a team.

Ripcord finally spoke up. "Hey, could be worse. You could be driving a bunch of bratty teenagers to some rich warlord's mansion." All three glared at him, but before any of them could say anything, he simply smirked and said, "Hey, I'm just teasing. You ladies look gorgeous. I consider myself lucky."

_Smooth talker, this one,_ Scarlett thought as she rolled her eyes. He was a bit cute, even if he was a bit mouthy. She spoke up, ignoring him and replying to what Mayday had said earlier.

"Ok, Charlie's Angels," Ripcord told them, "We're just about at the mansion. Time to get mentally ready to do your thing."

The three in the back looked at each other with blank stares.

Sensing this, Ripcord re-iterated, "Charlie's Angels… you know… old TV show? From the 70's? They made a few bad movies some years later…" Realizing they still weren't get it, he sighed out a "Nevermind…"

"Well, at least these outfits will make it easier for us to sneak in and pretend to be among his 'trophy' collection, whether or not we're angels." Scarlett emphasized the word "trophy" with disdain in her voice. Men like that were pigs. Even if they gave sweet compliments like Ripcord did. They always had an ulterior motive. Just look at Clutch… but if nothing else, at least _he _was up front and didn't hold back. Nothing hidden or secretive about that swine.

But still, it's too bad Snake couldn't see her dressed like this… dressed to kill. _You wouldn't stand a chance against me, Snake-Eyes,_ she thought to herself, with a subtle raise of her eyebrow and a sparkle in her emerald eyes, looking out the window of the limo.

The mansion became larger and larger in the window as it appeared over the horizon Scarlett put one hand on the window as she took in how truly enormous the mansion was. She couldn't help but open her mouth in amazement.

Even driving up the driveway took several minutes – it must have been at least three times as long as the road that led up to her parents house back in Georgia.

Pulling up through the circular driveway, Ripcord brought the limo to a stop. A young blonde lady wearing a tight little black dress and a smile full of confidence strolled down the steps with her arms held out wide to greet the arriving guests. Scarlett, Jinx, and Mayday looked at each other with an assumption that this must be Vorona but wanting confirmation from the others in order to avoid saying the wrong thing and consequently blow their cover.

Next to the lady they assumed was Vorona, a tall, bald butler dressed in an expensive tuxedo – resembling more of a bodyguard, Scarlett deduced, given his enormous size –opened the door for the ladies.

And now, here they were, forced to not only trust a complete stranger (…and a foreign stranger, at that) but acting as if the four of them were lifelong friends.

Scarlett was the first to step out, carefully putting her black stiletto heel to the pavement as her calf muscles tightened. Looking up at the mansion in wonderment, she couldn't help but feel like royalty. Still, she knew it was a false sense of royalty, and there was a mission to be done that was depending on her acting abilities. Going undercover had its moments; good, like this moment of grandeur… and bad, like wearing an evening dress. No matter what role she played, she had to remember, she was fully trained and qualified in undercover operations just like every other member of the unit.

Vorona immediately embraced Scarlett, catching her a bit off guard. "Darling!" she said in English, but with a deep Russian accent. "How long has it been? Three years? You look wonderful, Scarlett!"

Scarlett smiled. _Boy, this chick is good. She even knows who's who between us three. Good thing half of the population here speaks English; I don't think my rusty Borovian would cut it._

"Good to see you too, Vorona! It's been too long!" Scarlett, playing along with Vorona, leaning in to give a kiss on each cheek, as was the custom of Borovia. Both were pretending as if they were lifelong friends that hadn't seen each other in ages, even though the two in reality had never met until now. This was the only way to play it off and keep the prying eyes of the other ladies and armed guards in the mansion away… to keep them unsuspecting of their true motives.

Vorona smiled, looking at Scarlett as if she was reminiscing on old times, though Scarlett suspected she was studying her. "Aren't you just as pretty as a preacher today?"

_Um.. preacher?_ Scarlet thought, puzzled, but still smiling politely. _Oh, she must mean _picture._ Language barrier._ She smiled at her new Czechoslovakian friend, not wanting to seem rude by correcting her and realizing she must have mixed up her similies. "Why, thank you, Vorona. You look… just as pretty as well."

Mayday had just stepped out of the limo with Jinx in trail. Vorona gave them similar greetings, hugging each one of them with such adoration.

Escorting the three ladies inside, Vorona said, "Please, you must be exhausted after the long drive. Let me take you inside and give you rest."

Vorona walked up the stairs gracefully in her high heels, followed by Mayday. Scarlett and Jinx brought up the rear, walking cautiously and observing their surroundings while trying not to appear _too _cautious. They didn't want to look like military soldiers going room-to-room, even though this was exactly what their instincts were telling them to do.

The mansion was decorated exquisitely. As the ladies stepped through the doors, they were in awe of the enormous size of the mezzanine and the priceless decorations and artwork within. The crystal chandelier alone dominated the center of the room; one could almost notice it without looking up to find it. Several small table stands adorned the walls of the room, each one holding precious vases or statuettes. Paintings from some of the world's most famous artists hung on the walls, making the mansion seem more like a museum.

As Vorona took them up the left side of the double stairs, Jinx noticed a painting that caught her eye. It was a small, simple dojo, of beautiful decoration and structure, in a quiet and serine setting in the wilderness. A single cherry blossom tree stood outside the dojo and in the forefront of the painting. "Scarlett, look at this! Isn't it beautiful?"

Scarlett turned and nodded; it _was_ rather beautiful. "I always wanted to visit Japan, I would absolutely love to find a quiet little dojo like that!"

"This reminds me of the one that Snake-Eyes and I trained at," Jinx casually mentioned.

"You… and Snake-Eyes?" Scarlett was stunned.

"Yep! Well, I was much younger then. We had some absolutely amazing times in Japan. At least we did when he was there… you know, before he left." Jinx seemed to be elsewhere, thinking of another place in another time, as she gazed at the painting.

Scarlett tried as hard as she could to not sneer. _Snake-Eyes _knew_ Jinx before she joined the team? Why didn't he tell me?_ She wanted to slap the look right off of Jinx's face and snap her into reality, as if to say, "Hey, we have a mission to do, rookie!"

Scarlett felt her cheeks turning flush.

"You know, Scarlett, can I tell you something?" Jinx said with a quiet calmness but not really waiting for a response before continuing. "Snake-Eyes gets a bad rap on the team. You know, he really can be sweet, despite his quiet and reserved nature. He's not simply the steel-hearted warrior that most people think he is... there's really more too him than that."

Wondering if the inside of her cheek was bleeding, Scarlett kept biting down, disregarding the pain. _I already KNOW that, missy! _

She knew she was being jealous, but couldn't help it. She had already made the mistake of being jealous once before, when it turned out to be nothing. Scarlett took a deep breath. _No, I'm not going down this road again. I already made the mistake of thinking Snake and Firewall were an item. Just because Jinx knows Snake-Eyes better than most on this team, doesn't mean she knows him better than I do. Even if she did, it doesn't mean anything. Besides, Snake-Eyes can choose who he wants…_

She knew she was fooling herself with that last thought. Still, she wasn't sure if she was more upset with Jinx… or with Snake-Eyes. Why hadn't he mentioned this before? He was always so secretive with her, which frustrated her to no end. Sure, a person has their own past, and everone needs to keep some things to themselves, but with Snake… well, it seemed _everything_ about him was one big secret. It was hard to get inside the man… his thoughts, his desires, his past. Sometimes it felt like he was just secretive with _her _only, even though she knew better. But the fact that Jinx seemed to know him so well made her wonder.

A sweet Russian voice at the top of the stairs broke her thought: "Ladies, it _is _a beautiful painting, isn't it? But… should we, perhaps, continue to your rooms?"


	14. Ch 14: International Relations

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN: JOINT OPERATIONS**

Closing the large oak door to behind her, Vorona exhaled a deep sigh of relief. She leaned against the door, indicating that her "acting" was temporarily suspended now that the four were safely in the room.

A room, Scarlett thought, that looked to be the size of some people's houses. It was enormous - it looked like the room belonging to a European princess with too much wealth on her hands.

"It's nice to meet you, and I mean it this time," Vorona smiled. "As you know by now, I am Vorona, Russian Intelligence."

Jinx returned a smile, but Mayday and Scarlett were still in the process of mentally transitioning to the situation, now that the first round of acting was over.

Jinx introduced herself and Sierra Team. "…and it's good to be here," she said, quite chipper and never the bashful one. Jinx winked at Vorona, "The airline flight across the Atlantic wasn't pleasant."

Scarlett smiled at Jinx's last comment. _Airline flight, I wish. My butt's still sore from those uncomfortable red cargo seats on our C-130. I swear there was turbulence the entire way across._

Vorona spoke with a hush. "We are safe to speak in here, but we must be quiet. Many random areas in the house are bugged, and have camera. Dr. Walker is very paranoid. Very rich, too, and can afford much security.

"I am at risk by even inviting you here, but my country says it is for the best. I think so, too, from what my superiors tell me. Now listen. Dr. Walker is not just paranoid, but a maniac. He works for terrorists; he is a terrorist. We know he is involved with the EMP bomb; we suspect at minimum he is helping to fund it. Maybe more.

Vorona continued, "I know where they have your American soldiers. Dr. Walker owns a place in a small town called Wolken. They have a large prison there that they are most likely using to keep them in. I can get you the map for this place. I overheard him talking to someone he called The Wraith. Apparently, this Wraith is the guard of your Americans. Most likely the head of the prison."

Scarlett spoke up quietly; "That's just outside the rendezvous point where Tango and Echo Teams are heading. But they are on strict orders to remain radio silent; even over secure communications, we aren't allowed to contact or rendezvous with them until we have enough information to give them the location of Dr. Bennett. They don't have much to go on."

Vorona seemed disheartened at the mention of the doctor's name. "Dr. Bennett. We do not know where Dr. Bennett is. Once your Americans were captured, they moved the entire EMP research program. My guess is they knew you Americans were coming – and now they will be trying to complete their program even faster. I have been trying to find out where the program and scientists were moved, but have been unsuccessful. If we are to find out where, we will need to get the information from Dr. Walker."

If Vorona didn't have the attention of the three American operatives, she certainly did now. "Tonight may be our best chance to find out. I have a plan, but it is something I could not execute by myself. It is a team effort.

"Dr. Walker is hosting some 'out of town' guests that we believe are connected to one of the Borovian warlords. Our guess is he may go into detail about the EMP program since he seems to be financing a large part of it and, hopefully, reveal its location in the process. The only problem is…"

Vorona had a look on her face that the other girls didn't like. There was obviously some kind of catch.

The Russian operative cleared her throat, looking at the three girls. "We need one girl to get close to Dr. Walker and the other guests. By close, I mean…how you say…"

Trying to dance around the subject as much as she could while finding the right English words to use, she finally just blurted it out. "Which one of you girls are best at… exotic dancing?"

Jinx shrugged, but Mayday couldn't help but look at Scarlett and giggled. Not just with any regular laugh, but with a snicker and a look that said "I know allll about your 'dancing' history, Scarlett!"

_Oh my goodness,_ Scarlett thought as she looked up, exasperated; her cheeks were instantly flush, matching the color of her bright auburn hair. She held her hand out as her mouth opened as if she wanted to say something to Mayday, but words failed to come out. _How did Mayday know? _

_Better yet, how do I get out of this?_


	15. Ch 15: Endure and Resist

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN: ENDURE AND RESIST**

Damp, wet, and cold. The small room holding the four Americans prisoner fit this description to a T. Each and every soldier was beat up, bruised, underfed, and ready to get out. Despair was at an all time high despite every mental effort to overcome it. One of their own had just been killed, and another one was facing yet another interrogation; it must have been his tenth or eleventh time. They were starting to lose count.

The jail cell door opened up. Four guards – two on the flank with assault rifles and two holding upright a large shirtless marine with a faded green tattoo covering his entire chest, stood at the entrance. Tossing the hulking Gung Ho to the floor like a ragged doll, the jailers slammed closed the door and left just as quickly threw him in the cell.

Standing up, ready to charge the guards while swearing curses at them like the sailor he was, Shipwreck was in bad enough shape himself that he couldn't even make it to the door. Every one of them wanted to strangle the guards with their bare hands after what happened to Leatherneck.

Torpedo and Wet Suit, a little more mobile and in better health than Shipwreck and Deep Six, were the first to immediately move to Gung Ho's side. The tall marine was the worst injured out of the five soldiers; it always seemed like the biggest, baddest, and strongest member of any captured group was the one that was zeroed in on and beaten down the most… and that held true in this situation with Gung Ho. It was easy for them to tell that primitive guards like these loved nothing more than making an example out of the toughest guy and typically beat them the worst. And that was Gung Ho.

Shipwreck cursed again, turning his attention to the beat-up marine. "How's Gung Ho?"

Torpedo replied, "Well, looks like a few broken ribs… broken fingers… oh man, the fingers they did on purpose, looks like deliberate torture. Both eyes black…"

Voicing his concern, Wet Suit said, "We gotta get out of here. We can't let them continue doing this to us. Gung Ho is barely alive." Shipwreck and Torpedo looked at each other briefly, aware of the fact that Wet Suit was having a hard time focusing.

Shipwreck figured that if Wet Suit helped patch up Gung Ho, it would distract his thoughts from what happened to Leatherneck. Ship didn't realize how hard Wet Suit would take his death; hell, he didn't even realize how hard that _he _would take his death. That Marine was one tough S.O.B. _Leatherneck loved the Marines almost as much as I love the Navy_, he thought to himself. _That's dedication. I just wish we spent more time drinking and hanging out. I wonder if Wet Suit feels the same way, especially with as often as they fought._ His head dipped a bit as he stroked his scruffy, dirty chin. _It's over and done with - no use dwelling on the past now. For any of us. _

Deep Six sat in the corner keeping to himself, his head up against the wall, silently observing the others and quietly listening. He wasn't any more excited about being in here than any of the others, and silently was trying to figure a way out of here before anyone else had died.

As Whisky Team leader, Shipwreck tried to take control the best he could. It was hard dealing with mission failure, especially on this particular mission. _Ambushed right when we rolled up on the coast line. Almost like they knew we were comin'… or could see us. No one knew we were infiltrating that part of the coastline by sea, except General Hawk. He obviously didn't tell the enemy we were visiting town._ Shipwreck, over the last several days, had racked his brain… desperately trying to figure out how they were caught so easily.

_They were armed and ready, waiting for us. But how. Heat sensors? No… they wouldn't have had the range, not to mention it would have been an impossible coincidence to have them in that exact spot along the coast line. Besides heat sensors couldn't have much of a range on small warm bodies in a large cold ocean. _

He kept coming back to the only thing he could think of. _Satellite imagery? Borovia had to be ready for us, given their hostilities with America. That we can assume. Maybe they saw us getting off the Navy cruiser and into the water, even though we had a long way to the coastline. They would have been spying on the cruiser, no doubt. But Borovia isn't supposed to have that kind of technology. Well, so our Intel says._

He bit his tongue. _Mission Failure._ Those two words kept popping up in his head. Repeating themselves, over and over.

Shipwreck shook his head, as if trying to clear out the mental monsters in his head. What was done was done. It was time to deal with the present and not the past. "Patch him up the best you can. Then we need to think of a way out of here. You guys need help with him?"

Making an attempt at a weak smile while hoping to lighten up the dark atmosphere, Torpedo let out a weak chuckle, "We got it, Ship. We were SEALs, just like you, remember? Tell me you didn't lose faith in us or figure that we forgot how to apply first aid?"

While he wasn't in the mood to smile, Shipwreck appreciated Torpedo's levity of the situation. Still, gritting his teeth and with a clenched fist and staring at the doorway, he practically prayed for one of the guards to dare enter the cell again. "Next time they come in, I swear, they'll pay for what they did to Leatherneck… and Gung Ho..."

No longer were they going to sit idly by, beaten daily for information, interrogated, and eventually facing execution, like Leatherneck. It was time to act. It was time to escape.


	16. Ch 16: The Cover of Night

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN:** **THE COVER OF NIGHT **

As Snake-Eyes led the teams forward, he couldn't help but wonder what they were to expect at their next rendezvous point – an old, abandoned building that would supposedly buy them enough time to wait for radio contact. Based on their operational plan, their point of contact would get in touch with them, either in person or – worst case scenario…if their contact was a no-show – they would get a message via SATCOM from The Pit. The latter would most likely mean their contact was compromised or diverted, meaning they would be unable to fulfill their part of the mission. Snake-Eyes crossed his fingers and hoped that it wouldn't come to that option.

The night was still young so far and they had the advantage of darkness, but they had to move quickly in order to make it to the building before the sun came up. Supposedly, the building was big enough to fit the tank inside, even though with its stealth and invisible capabilities hiding it was nothing more than an extra precaution.

Nonetheless Snake was grateful for Low-Lights extra set of eyes on this particular night mission in a foreign land. It wasn't that long ago that Low-Light was shot up… shot up bad, sustaining multiple bullet wounds, yet had somehow managed to survive. Snake-Eyes respected anyone that had the physical and mental toughness to pull through from a bloodbath like that – something that took pure will to survive from. In a way, the two had that common bond; both had stared Death right in the face and cheated it by somehow avoiding its dark, wicked claws just before the moment that it reached out to grab them in an attempt to drag them kicking and screaming to the other side.

No, not this time. Maybe another day, on another mission; maybe even this one. But for now, they were both still alive and had plenty of fight left in them. Time would tell.

As they continued to their rendezvous point, Snake-Eyes took a look behind him to make sure Echo Team was still safe and in position. Blowtorch and Barbecue followed at a safe distance behind the two point-men, followed by the near-silent Flagg Tank. If there was one reason that Snake-Eyes was glad he was at point and well ahead of Blowtorch and Barbecue, it was because he was far enough ahead of the Flagg that he didn't have to worry about _not _hearing it and getting steamrolled by the behemoth.

Recondo took up the rear position behind the tank. Based on the original mission plans and training preparation, Recondo was set to march side by side with Barbecue while Blowtorch took up the rear-guard position. However, Recondo – being the vocal matter-of-fact soldier that he was (often accused by others of "calling a spade a spade") – made it clear to the team leadership that he be the one to take the rear position since he was best suited for it, well before their first practice operation had even taken place. He argued that the team would benefit with him in the rear position since his time spent in the jungle had helped him develop something of a sixth sense.

No one argued. The jungleman's eyes in the back of the head _would _be a huge asset to the team and everyone knew it. General Hawk ordered Recondo and Blowtorch to swap positions, everyone saw benefits during their training operations in preparation for their current mission, and the rest was history.

Several hours had went by, and they were still making good time. Only a few more hours and they'd be at the building. Tango and Echo Teams had managed to avoid all hostile enemies up to this point. They did have two close encounters, though, that tested the silence of the team and the tank. Their first near-encounter consisted of a noisy band of renegade Borovians camping in the distance; Flash picked up their noise with the on-board audible sensor miles before they encountered them. Instead of ambushing them and drawing attention to themselves, Tango and Echo easily skirted around the Borovians – it was easier to avoid them than slaughtering them and leaving behind a pile of evidence or perhaps letting a lone survivor escape into the night. Minimal contact, as they were ordered.

The second encounter was a little closer to becoming a full-fledge conflict. Snake-Eyes had spotted a random patrol of soldiers ahead of their group. Passing a signal to Low-Light (who in turn passed it behind him to the rest of the team), Echo Team silently crouched and took cover in their positions. The Flagg held fast, blending into the dark forest.

Everyone was well clear of the patrol except for Snake-Eyes, who was maybe twenty yards ahead of Low-Light. With the utmost skill and caution Snake managed to duck behind a decaying, tall stump of what was once a large tree; pressing his back up close to it, he blended in with the dark tree as if he was part of it. His hand slowly moved to the hilt of his sword. His fingers carefully wrapped around it, pulling it up from its resting position in its sheath not much more than an inch. The enemy patrol marched right ahead, oblivious of the two American teams… but their path took them straight towards Snake-Eyes.

The enemy patrol, no further away from Snake-Eyes than a foot or two, walked right on by him to the very last man; they never knew he was there. Snake-Eyes, content that the small band of enemy soldiers had just passed by him with complete ignorance, relaxed his grip on his sword and slid it back into his sheath.

Now, after that close call several hours before hand, they finally had the building in their sights. Snake-Eyes had signaled the team to a halt.

"Ok, Tango, looks like Snake-Eyes has the building one-hundred yards from our position," Steeler said. "Can you get a track on it, Flash?"

"Roger, we're interrogating the building now. Looks like… looks like it's empty. No heat signatures bigger than a squirrel. No noise either. Our x-ray is showing nothing significant. A few concrete blocks, some overgrowth from the trees, but mostly its open space inside. We're good, Steeler."

"Ok, you guys heard Flash. Snake-Eyes and Low-Light, time to prove the Flagg wrong. Push forward and make sure the building is clear."

The sweep of the building and its surrounding area was quick but thorough. Snake-Eyes and Low-Light moved quickly and efficient as they moved inside the building, just like a smoothly operating well-oiled machine. Within moments, Low-Light gave the all-clear to the Flagg and escorted Tango Team inside.

Everything was on time, and on track. Just like clockwork. Then again, Snake reasoned, this was normally the time when something bad was about to happen. Missions that started with such an ugly premise never _ever_ went smoothly, after all.


	17. Ch 17: Undercover Redhead

*Authors Note: Sorry, been a while since I've been able to put out more. The story is mostly done, just have to do a lot more editing before I release these chapters. Thanks for all of your feedback, reviews, and compliments! Please let me know if there are any confusing sections in the future; if they are too confusing or if I have errors, I will be more than happy to fix them for the sake of the story. I believe we're at a good spot right now, as the true action is starting in the next several chapters. Please enjoy…!

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: UNDERCOVER REDHEAD**

"Dr. Walker likes his girls… his exotic dancers," Vorona explained to Scarlett as the redhead reluctantly stepped into her crimson dancers outfit, "…a lot."

_Great, Shana. Just great. That's what I get for complaining about a low-cut evening dress. I'll never make that mistake again._ Her cheeks were flush… a bright red color to match her tight leather G-string and corset; her embarrassment hadn't died down one bit, and she wasn't even on stage just yet. _And to think Jinx and Mayday have cameras and will be recording the entire thing. Sure, the focus will be on Dr. Walker and his guess but guess who'll be in the background, dancing her little ass off? Snake is gonna _kill_ me, and I don't blame him. *I* would kill me if I were him. This day just can't get any worse._

"Don't worry, darling, that's a good thing for us today. His weakness will be his undoing," Vorona told the nervous redhead as she finished zipping up her boots. "Just remember; get close enough so we can record the conversation with Dr. Walker and his two clients. I know the doctor has hired the two of them for some reason relating to the EMP program – hopefully their conversation will give us a clue to where Dr. Bennett is, and maybe even how close they are to finishing the bomb."

With a quick adjustment of her choker and a nod to Vorona, Scarlett took a deep breath. She exhaled, put on her red elbow-length gloves, and began to walk… which turned into a _strut_… towards the stage.

Through a transmission in her near-invisible earpiece, Scarlett heard Jinx tell her, "Hey, could be worse! At least Clutch isn't here to undress you with his eyes!" Jinx snickered, and then made a playful purring sound in Scarlett's earpiece.

Scarlett, for the first time in her short career… had to do the hardest thing she had _ever_ had to do in her life; maintain her composure and resist shaking her body as if every inch of her skin was crawling. _…Eww! __I guess my day _can _get worse. _Scarlett could hear a laugh from Mayday in the background, who… along with Jinx, quietly let out an "Eww!" of their own.

Up on stage, Scarlett danced to the music, swaying her hips from side to side, raising her arms above her head and tussling her red locks of hair through her fingers… looking _incredibly_ sultry. Her hair cascaded through her fingers as her body rocked to the beat of the music; her gyrations were enough to grab the attention of any red-blooded male in the room. Her eyes were partially closed, as if she was finding herself lost in the music as she twisted and moved her body in inhuman ways.

Yet it was all a ruse. Even through her game of seduction, it was all business. The dance wasn't for Snake-Eyes, which made her entire performance difficult. And made her feel guilty. For the first time since she met the masked silent warrior, she had to perform a dance for someone other than him. That feeling alone made it hard to get into the rhythm and into her routine – but still, it was like riding a bike and something she could have easily done in her sleep.

_It's all business, Shana. You're an undercover agent, _she kept telling herself. _You were trained for this… this performance can dictate the difference between a bomb going off and maintaining national security. _

Even if she was dancing for the general crowd, deep inside her all of her attention was focused towards the one man down in front: Dr. Walker. She was focused on him just as much as she would have been for Snake-Eyes, but in a _very, extremely _different way.

She had to get close enough to Dr. Walker so her hidden microphone would pick up his conversation with his guests, even though she was worried that he might not recognize her – this could be bad if the doctor kept tabs on every dancer that he had in the mansion, meaning that the strange female dance on stage wasn't one of his regulars. Hopefully this wasn't the case.

_I can't believe I'm doing this. If Snake-Eyes ever sees the footage from this… oh my…, I… oh, I don't know what I would do. I don't even want to think about it. _The sexual, seductive look on Scarlett's face clearly didn't match the nervousness and anxiety she had on the inside. Her inside and outside were polar opposites.

Straining her ears as much as possible while trying to ignore the loud bass of the background music, she knew that the other girls were listening to every word spoken through the microphone hidden in her dazzling ruby-shaped necklace. The fact that Dr. Walker and his business associates were so close to the front of the stage helped even though the music was loud. Dr. Walker was dressed up in a white suit and tie, looking flashy… just as Vorona had told Scarlett based on his profile. The other two men were much larger than the doctor, and both dressed in black.

It took a great amount of skill to dance to the music – let alone pretending she was "into it", while simultaneously using most of her focus and attention on eavesdropping and observation. _Let's get closer, Scarlett,_ she thought to herself, _even if you don't want to; you have a mission to do…_

With every erotic dancing step bringing her slightly closer to the keeper of the mansion, Scarlett prayed that he wouldn't realize she wasn't one of his regular "girls". With any luck, he had so many girls that he wouldn't be able to recognize _all _of them, after all.

"Ok, Scarlett," Jinx told her through her earpiece. "We're electronically fading out the loud thumping base in the background…changing frequencies…and… ok, we're good now; as long as you stay that close to him, we can make out their conversation. Nod twice to acknowledge."

Throughout her dancing routine, Scarlett subtly nodded her head up and down two times.

Scarlett continued her routine, forced to gyrate her hips next to this man and pretending that she was seducing the most powerful man in that Borovian region… all for the sake of getting close enough to him so her jeweled necklace could pick up the conversation with him and his clients.

_And those frickin' cameras,_ she thought again, realizing that Jinx and Mayday were going to have a field day with this video footage.

"_For official use only" my ass. If I see any of this at the Christmas party…I will beat Jinx and Mayday within an inch of their lives…_

Scarlett certainly had an effect on all of the doctor's regular guests in the mansion. They stared at her as if she was a Queen. However, for the first time, Scarlett realized that Dr. Walker wasn't watching her. In fact, she was the farthest thing from his attention. He may have very well been the one man in the crowd that _wasn't _eating out of her hand at this point. Scarlett wasn't sure if she should feel relieved… or insulted.

With a closer look, she realized that Dr. Walker was sweating… just a little. Tiny beads of sweat on his forehead… tiny, but enough for her to pick up on.

It was hard to hear anything over the music, but she strained her ears as much as she could. Fortunately she knew that Jinx and Mayday had adjusted the frequency so they could pick up the entire conversation, but she wasn't on the other end of the recorder. Still, Scarlett was able to pick up a few words from the conversation. Small phrases. She learned that one of the two men was codenamed "Blackout". She observed that they were very cautious…lowering their voices, when they used terms such as "the package". That was easy enough for Scarlett to decipher as "the bomb". Still, another significant name came up in the conversation; Dr. Bennett.

This was the real deal, alright. _Keep dancing, Shana. Maintain your composure,_ she told herself. _Don't screw this one up. _She'd come a long way from Club Honey; but ultimately dancing in a small club in Atlanta wasn't that much different than dancing in an even more dangerous "club" in Borovia. Men were men, no matter where they were from.

Dr. Walker hinted that he had information downstairs in his basement of which he would retrieve and give them when the time was right. It was clear to Scarlett that he didn't want to give these guys the information just yet; she deduced he was a very paranoid and controlling type. Very meticulous, and very cautious. Dr. Walker had a plan that he wanted to follow precisely on schedule and to the second; more than that, he wanted to control as much of the information as he could without releasing it to anyone else. A real mistrustful, micromanaging style.

Finally, Scarlett's patience had paid off. The doctor had said something crucial.

"Tomorrow night," Dr. Walker told his two associates, "Meet me in my library. 2200 sharp. I will escort you to my office where we will go over the plan…"

Scarlett thought she heard him right, but wanted to make sure. Looking out to the crowd where Vorona, Jinx, and Mayday had blended in, Scarlett noticed all three of them gave her the pre-coordinated "mission complete" signal.

_Finally! I can wrap it up,_ she thought. _Not sure what they are up to, but it sounds like the girls have the complete picture, meaning we must have enough information to proceed…_


	18. Ch 18: Secrets in the Basement

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: SECRETS IN THE BASEMENT**

"I found it," Mayday told the others in a quiet but firm voice. Scarlett and Vorona were neck deep in books but dropped what they were doing to head towards Mayday. Jinx was on the other side of the library on top of a bookshelf; she quickly hopped down and did the same.

"Look here," Mayday said, holding a motion detector in her hand. "There's just enough of a draft coming from behind this book case to set this off. You were right, Vorona… he wanted to meet in the library because this is where the secret passage to his office is. And it's right behind this bookcase."

After a quick inspection of the book shelf, Jinx and Vorona determined that it was on a set of inconspicuous rollers which would allow part of it to push backwards with one smooth motion. The two women pushed it back four feet before it stopped, revealing a small pathway leading to a flight of stairs down into the darkness… and most likely, to the basement. "For as long as I've been in this mansion, I never realized this was here," Vorona said whimsically – Scarlett wasn't sure if she was more intrigued with the secret design or if she was a little perturbed since she had overlooked the secret passage the entire time she had been at the mansion.

At the bottom of the stairs, after taking a few twists and turns through a long underground hallway, Vorona led them to just outside Dr. Walker's study. "This must be Dr. Walker's personal office…his study. I have found he often comes down here, but had never been able to find where the secret entrance to it was. I'd been looking for this room for quite a while, even before you three came. After all, I still have my original primary mission my countrymen have sent me on. And by helping you, I might just be able to kill two bears with one stone."

Mayday looked confused for a moment… until Scarlett mouthed _birds, not bears_ to her. When Vorona wasn't looking, of course. A light bulb over Maydays head turned on and her confusion turned into a subtle smile, realizing what Vorona was trying to say.

"We have to be quick; I've been able to install a loop in the cameras throughout the mansion; a little flirting with the security guards in the control room can work wonders. Just because I couldn't _find _his secret room doesn't mean that I wasn't able to manipulate the cameras." Vorona pulled out a small remote with a couple push-buttons and a one-inch antenna.

"Anyway, it will appear that the halls and rooms are empty on film while we actually are here, simply with a flick of this button. You know the movie _Speed?_" Vorona said, referencing the Hollywood movie. "It's just like that."

Scarlett recognized the device. It looked almost like the same make and model as what she remembered on one of her past missions…well, not really a mission – Breaker had used something like this on a previous mission before she had joined the team.

Vorona pushed one of the buttons on the control and immediately a green light came on. "Now we are good to enter his office."

If Scarlett recalled correctly, the device had just sent a signal to the cameras, forcing them to play a pre-recorded video of an empty office on a continuous loop.

_Very resourceful,_ Scarlett thought. _And has a grasp on American Hollywood movies. I'm impressed._

"Ah, Keanu fan, are we?" Jinx asked Vorona, winking. As if in deep thought, Jinx added, "I don't blame you. There's something about him; maybe it's his butt."

Vorona shrugged, smiling. Mimicking Dennis Hopper, she quoted in her best American accent, "_You tell that wildcat behind the wheel not to slow down or even __he__ won't get a chance to bleed to death…"_

Mayday laughed. "You like your movies, don't you?"

"Ah, yes, I do. Especially American movies," Vorona said sounding very chipper. "Actually though, I prefer Jude Law from _Enemy at the Gates_ over Keanu. I have thing for snipers, you see."

_Russian sniper, too, wasn't he? Dangerous girl. But my kind of style,_ Scarlett thought to herself.

The four women continued to scour the office, searching for anything that they could find that might help them locate Dr. Bennett and how far along the EMP program was… how close the bomb was to completion. Vorona walked over to one of the paintings in the room – a painting of a lone cherry blossom tree. Delicately feeling around the painting, she checked it to see if it was hiding anything behind it… and to make sure it wasn't trapped.

"We definitely owe you one, Vorona. We won't forget this," Mayday reassured her.

"Oh, those trees are so pretty," Jinx said, still mission focused and searching for secret compartments on the table, although she did come off as if she was distracted. "I remember this one time in Japan, there was this one cherry blossom tree that Snake-Eyes always did his meditation by; after these last few years, I understand why; the scene was just so… so serene."

_Oh, please. "I remember this one time…"at _band_ camp, maybe…_ Scarlett mocked her with sarcastic words screaming aloud in her mind, yet biting down on her lip to keep those words from escaping. _Get over your little girl crush, Jinx. _She wanted to slap her back to reality with an open hand, but forced herself to take a bit more of a… gentle approach. She was a nice girl, after all, as far as Scarlett could tell; she just seemed to have her head in the clouds. _And in Snake-Eyes pants._ "Hey, maybe we should focus on the task at hand," she vocalized bluntly, trying to bring her back to reality.

Jinx smiled. "Sorry," she said unconcerned, shrugging. She continued to inspect the table.

"Anyone else notice Dr. Walker seems to have a thing for Japan?" Mayday stated as she looked through the antique wardrobe.

Vorona pulled at the painting, which opened up like a hinge, revealing a large iron safe behind it. She cursed very sharply in Russian, drawing the attention of the other three ladies.

"I do not know the combination. I was led to believe his safe was a key lock – one that I could pick. He must have swapped out safes… or locks. But this… I suggest we look around this room for clues in case I cannot get this open. This is our only chance, and the clock is ticking."

"Hey Vorona, give me a shot at this," Mayday said, reaching far underneath her evening dress.

Scarlett was a bit… surprised… yes, surprised, that Mayday had hiked her dress up so far and reached between her legs.

Mayday pulled out a small tool pouch. Quite un-lady like, Scarlett thought… but, very resourceful. Still, who was she to talk? She had a small firearm tucked away a bit higher than she would have liked… actually _very _high, up her leg. And even so, this was a professional mission and – fortunately – no males were around to witness it anyway.

"How on earth did you fit that under there?" Jinx said, asking the obvious question. Mayday smiled, avoiding a response and tilting her head to the side. And surprisingly, Scarlett noticed… Mayday wasn't even blushing.

Mayday put on a set of earphones, the kind that were designed by the government, for the government, and only the government. She told the other girls to keep it down while she bent down and listened intently to the safe. Mayday slowly turned the knob, back and forth, listening as hard as she could in order to find the contact points.

Jinx, Scarlett, and Vorona were all starting to feel nervous; that helpless feeling of doing nothing was creeping into their minds. Jinx and Scarlett decided to make themselves useful and continue looking around the room while Mayday worked at the safe.

Meanwhile, Mayday cautiously…very, _very_ carefully, continued trying to find the right combination. Every once in a while, the others would hear her let out a murmured "Got it…", or more often, a frustrated "No!"

But eventually, after a long several minutes and much persistence, they all heard Mayday let out a triumphant but stifled "Yes!" The safe was opened.

"Nice work, Paige!" Jinx told her. "Not bad, Mayday," Scarlett told her with a subtle smile on her face.

"Very well done, my little safecracker! Just like Charlize Theron in _The Italian Job_. Well, anyway, we still have to be as quick as a flush; we need to find out where Dr. Bennett is and get out of here. Help me sort through these," Vorona told them, taking out the documents that were in the safe.

"Um, I think you mean flash, Vorona? Quick as a flash?" Jinx corrected.

Vorona smiled, shrugging it off with a simple laugh. "Confusing American English. Never understood your language very well."

"I suspect some of these documents will help me perform my own mission for Mother Russia. I apologize, but I will leave these other documents to you, until I finish up."

While Vorona rummaged through some of the other unrelated files in the safe, the other three women analyzed the files applicable to their mission as if they were putting together a large thousand-plus piece jigsaw puzzle. Documents, pictures, and files were strewn about the coffee table and spread across the main desk; the four ladies dissected them as quickly as they could, knowing time was _not_ on their side. But, they had to be thorough. Being an undercover operative sometimes meant being not only just observant, but also swift – and knowing exactly what to look for.

While Vorona rifled through the files for her own mission on, Scarlett, Mayday, and Jinx hit the jackpot. Not only did they have more than enough evidence to incriminate Dr. Walker, but they also had the new location of the science team working on their top-secret project.

A place called Walker Innovations, a couple hundred miles away, in the small city of Urbak.


	19. Ch 19: Contact

**CHAPTER NINETEEN: CONTACT**

"Steeler, we have contact. It's Jinx, believe it or not. Jinx and her team – Sierra Team – are in country." Flash said.

"Alright, Flash, patch her through to me." Steeler and the others had patiently waited for their go-ahead transmission, but they weren't expecting the contact to be someone that they had left behind in the states. Steeler wondered how Sierra Team had arrived in Borovia so fast and came to the conclusion that circumstances must have changed immediately after his team had departed; Jinx and the other had to have left the United States within the twenty-four hour period after they left the runway.

"Steeler, this is Jinx. We're showing secure communications on our end," Jinx hailed him.

Steeler did likewise. "Roger Jinx, we're showing secure as well. Go ahead with transmission and instructions."

Taking a deep breath, Jinx passed on Sierra Teams Intel information. "Alright, so far all is good with us. As you can guess, we are something of a Plan B; we weren't supposed to be here based on the original plans.

"However, we found the locations of both Whiskey Team as well as Dr. Bennett. There's good news and bad news attached to this, though."

"Ok, Jinx, let's start with the good news." By this time, the rest of the group had huddled around, in, and on the tank, trying to listen to the conversation between Tango Team lead and Sierra Team lead.

Jinx smiled, even if Steeler couldn't see it. "You know, in my experience, most people ask for the bad news first to get it out of the way, but you're the commander."

She continued, "So the good news, since you asked for it, is that each location is close to one of our teams. Still, since I _know_ you're going to ask for the bad news next, here it is: Our target locations are in the opposite location. Dr. Bennett is closest to us, while Whiskey Team is closest to you guys. Yes, we know Dr. Bennett is your primary mission, but it looks like we are in better position to go after him. Steeler, General Hawk dropped us a good three hundred miles away from you guys. It turns out that when they moved the location of the original EMP program, they moved it on the other side of the country as well… which means it's fairly close to us, but real far from you."

Steeler realized where she was going with this. "This changes things," he said gravely. He paused for a moment, regretting what he was about to say… but a decision he had to make. "Well, I guess that means we go for Whiskey Team since we're closer to them and time is of the essence, and you go for the scientist. How is Sierra Team planning on egressing Borovia with Dr. Bennett?"

Shana told Jinx, after hearing Steelers transmission, "They don't trust us, do they? Just because we're the new kids."

Jinx nodded at Shana, rolling her eyes at Steeler, full well knowing he couldn't see her exasperation with him. "Same way Whiskey Team came in… along the south beach. Just a lot further to the east than they were. General Hawk is having a U.S. Navy vessel rerouted just to pick us up. I'm expecting they'll be running silent until we get to our rendezvous point. Talk about flexing military muscle, huh?"

Jinx continued to tell Steeler and his team about Wolken Prison and the likelihood that Whisky Team was being held there. "Be careful, Steeler," Jinx said, winking at the other three ladies… making a point to give him the same chastising he gave them. Still, special operations was all business and had a very serious element, so she explained with great sincerity, "Wolken has a large prison where they're holding our guys. It is well defended. Even with that tank of yours, it'll be a challenge. Better hope they don't find you first or else World War III might break out."

"Steeler," Flash interrupted, "Sierra Team is scanning us information on Wolken that they obtained. GPS satellite images, blueprint specs to the prison, and intercepted radio transmissions. This should give us a lot to work with – number of soldiers, points of entry, and so on. Looks like Hawk equipped them well."

Steeler nodded in approval.

Jinx wrapped up the quick brief by asking, "I imagine that you'll still be rendezvousing with the C-130 to pick up you guys and your tank, same place and same time as General Hawk briefed earlier?"

Steeler said, "That's affirmative. I guess if we're getting a ride with the Air Force and you're getting a ride with the Navy, then we won't see each other until we get back.

"Thanks again for the information Jinx. Look, I know we have to terminate radio communications, so do you have any last questions, since we won't be able to communicate after this?"

"Nope, we're good. Say hi to Snake-Eyes and the others for me," Jinx said.

"Umm..ok, will do. He says hi, too," Steeler looked at the others in the tank, hoping they might have a clue as to why she asked about Snake-Eyes. He was only was met with shrugs from Clutch and Grand Slam. "Good luck, ladies. Tango Team out."

"Sierra Team out," Jinx responded.

"So Jinx, I've been meaning to ask you," Scarlett asked as Jinx zeroized the codes on the radio, effectively making the radio a useless paperweight. "Are you and Snake-Eyes…" She trailed her voice off intentionally as if not wanting to finish the sentence, hoping Jinx would intervene and explain what was going on.

Jinx smiled. "Nope, but we could be," she said playfully, giving Scarlett a wink, knowing exactly what she had intended to ask well before she could finish her slowly drawn-out sentence.

Scarlett shook her head as a soft sigh escaped her lips. While she wasn't comfortable with what was going on, she did calm herself down and promised she would be rational. _Ok, let it go, Scarlett. Maybe I do need to tell Jinx about me and Snake-Eyes. I'm probably misjudging things, like I did with Firewall and Snake. I know, I know… I need to grow up a bit here. After all, even if she did know about me and him and was acting like this deliberately – I doubt it, but if – it's Snake-Eyes decision who he wants, not mine. And right now he seems to be happy with me. And I'll do whatever I can to keep it that way. Still, he deserves to be with who he wants… especially after everything he's been through… _


	20. Ch 20: Jailbreak?

NOTE: If you have read this far, you can probably tell there are three main story lines going. Some chapters will continue back to back storylines, while other storylines we may not get to for several chapters down the road. This is mostly due to the time line of the story – I hope it does not detract from the overall picture. Again thank you for taking your time to read, and as always I hope you enjoy

-AF Iron 135

**CHAPTER TWENTY: JAILBREAK?**

The jail door opened up again. Three guards – two armed, and the third one with a set of long black shackles… clearly for the next interrogation victim, stepped just inside the room. One of the gunmen spoke, "Alright… you, prisoner #4," he said pointing at Wet Suit, "Your turn again. Overkill wants to see you."

Shipwreck sat against the wall, in a half-fetal position, holding his wounded arm and wincing in pain. He looked like he had been beaten within an inch of his life. He had been brutally beaten during previous interrogations, and although his physical body was in bad shape, he still had some life left in him. But now, after the last interrogation, he looked utterly defeated. Physically… _and _mentally. Though he was the leader of the group, he said nothing.

The guards noticed that Prisoners #2 and #4 (Torpedo and Wet Suit) didn't look like they had been in any better shape, either. They were sitting on the ground in clear despair next to the lifeless body of Gung Ho, visibly in mourning.

It was Deep Six… typically the quiet one, who spoke up on behalf of the others. "Nice work." Sarcasm oozed out of his mouth as he spoke bluntly… bluntly like he always did, but going out of his way to get under the skin of the guards. "Your tyrant interrogator beat him to death. He's been dead over an hour. How do you expect to get information out of any of us when you keep killing?"

The guards stopped, surveying the scene, making sure it wasn't a trap. The marine on the floor did in fact appear to be dead; his face was hardly recognizable – bruises and swelling disguised his normal looks. His body was beyond broken. Marine or no marine, there was no way he was alive.

The guard in the back – the one with the shackles, told the one of the gunmen, "Get him out of here. We'll let the Wraith decide what he wants to do with his body. He can probably use this to our advantage."

Another one snickered, "Two down, four to go."

Deep Six didn't move, but the three ex-SEALs stood up – slowly – in a weakened condition but with defiant anger.

"You're not touching him! You want him? You'll have to come through me!" Torpedo shouted.

The both gunmen simply pointed their weapons at the resistors. "Not a smart idea. Because if I have to, I WILL come through you to get him. Gladly."

Anger and fury weren't strong enough words to explain the feelings of the American prisoners. Every one of them wanted to leap forward and either strangle the guards with their bare hands or else snap their necks with a firm yank, but they knew they were helpless against bullets. They clenched their fists but knew they couldn't stop them from taking their friend; they didn't step back, but reluctantly held their ground.

"Oh, and #4," the guard said pointing at Wet Suit, "We'll be back for you. Don't think we'll forget just because one of you croaked. There's plenty more of you that'll get your chance to die, like him," the gunman said, kicking the still body of Gung Ho. One of the guards trained his gun on the Americans while another bent down to haul Gung Ho out of the room. With his free hand, he bent down, grabbing the collar of the marine, and tried to drag him out of the room. The body barely moved.

"Does this guy have lead in his pants? He's freakin' heavy," one of the gunman told the others, slinging his rifle all the way over his shoulder and squating down a little more in order to use his leg muscles to help drag the body out of the room.

Little did he know this was a critical mistake.

With every shred of strength left in his body… although it wasn't very much, the marine grabbed the hand that was pulling him with his own hand, yanking the guard downward; as he stumbled downward, Gung Ho grabbed the dangling assault rifle, using it to flip the helpless guard onto his back. Turning over on his side, Gung Ho took the rifle and slammed the butt in the guards face as hard as he could and with every last ounce of energy he had in his body.

The other gunman, startled and caught off guard, raised his weapon to fire at the possum-playing marine, but his lack of awareness and slow response gave Torpedo and Shipwreck enough time to move. Torpedo went high, punching him in the face as hard as he could, while Shipwreck went for the gun. Ship quickly wrapped his arms around the rifle – not to seize it from the guard but to control the direction of the barrel, ensuring that even if the guard _was_ able to pull the trigger, the bullet spray wouldn't hit any of them.

It was clear that the wounded soldiers were hurting – but not in as bad of a condition as they let on.

The third guard dropped his shackles and turned around to run as fast as he could; Wet Suit took off after him.

The guard that Torpedo struck was knocked out cold before he even hit the floor and plummeted downward like a sack of bricks. "Grab the other rifle, Deep Six, we gotta get the other guard before he gets reinforcements!" Shipwreck shouted, while securing his own rifle from the unconscious guard. Deep Six, making sure Gung Ho was alright (and he was; he was hurt, badly… but Gung Ho gave the thumbs-up sign), grabbed the extra firearm.

Wet Suit ran as fast as he could through the concrete bunker and gradually gained ground on the other guard, slowly closing distance between the two with each long stride. The guard turned down a long, dark tunnel, momentarily out of Wet Suit's vision but he didn't see anyone else. _I gotta get this guy before he gets backup_, he thought to himself, turning the corner and scanning hard through the darkness in an attempt to reacquire his target. Wet Suit could make out the figure in the darkness running away – he continued to pursue.

The other four soldiers gave chase; Deep Six and Shipwreck were already in pursuit of Wet Suit and the fleeing guard while Torpedo helped Gung Ho on his feet, carrying him on his shoulder. "I know you're tired, buddy, but you gotta hold in there for a little longer."

_Almost got him,_ Wet Suit thought, reaching out his hand, just inches from the back of the guard, trying to stop him before he reached the end of the black tunnel.

But just a half second before he could grab him, something – or someone – stepped out of the shadows and grabbed Wet Suit. The ex-SEAL never even saw him.

It was Overkill, their interrogator. In an instant, Overkill had his arm wrapped around Wet Suits neck. His grip tightened and his arms locked in place; mercilessly he tightening his grip and began to strangle the American with all his might.

Wet Suit tried to fight back, using every trick in the book, but as big of a man as he was, the monstrous prison guard was bigger – much bigger. He scratched at his arms in an attempt to cause a shock of pain, but Overkill did not weaken his grip. Wet Suit tried to back kick Overkill's knee, but the interrogator was much to experienced and able to assume a stance that wouldn't allow Wet Suit to reach him.

With one last desperate attempt, Wet Suit made an attempt to slide his leg in-between Overkills. He slid it through successfully and tried to kick not the knee itself, but _behind_ his knee, hoping the interrogator would buckle and lose his balance. Slamming his foot into the back of Overkills leg, the large interrogator started to lose his balance. For a moment, it looked like Overkill would fall.

But he caught himself before he fell and quickly reestablished his footing. Overkill tightened his grip, desperately trying to squeeze the life out of Wet Suit.

Raising his arms, Wet Suit tried to grab Overkill and flip him over. His arms couldn't even reach; he was just in too weak of a condition from previous interrogations. He tried to gasp for air. Wet Suits vision started to blur. He tried one last time to twist free, hoping he could slide out of the grasp of the larger man.

He twisted, jerking violently, pulling himself downwards, desperately trying to breath. Trying to get at least one breath of air… enough to sustain him and give him a burst of renewed energy to fight back with.

But he couldn't break free of the choke hold.

Then, there was nothing. Blackness descended upon him. He fell limp in the Strangler's arms.

Overkill kept his hold, muscles flexing, squeezing with all of his might. All the time without saying a word. Compressing his hold. Tightening his grip. Squeezing as hard as he could.

Squeezing the life out of him. He dropped the former SEAL to the ground, staring at his victim with cold, red, bloodshot eyes.

He was dead.


	21. Ch 21: ENGAGE

NOTE: Here it is, the chapter you've been waiting for. And the action will continue for several chapters beyond this one. But all action has its triumphs and tragedies. Enjoy!

**CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: ENGAGE**

No one would ever have assumed that Snake-Eyes wasn't cautious. Even if one foolishly had, there was no arguing that the ninja was fully on guard and ready for anything to be thrown his way. It was just about infiltration time… and as a result – battle time.

Steeler, one of his oldest teammates, knew that too.

Wolken Prison – the target of infiltration – was located less than two miles ahead of Tango and Echo teams, just on the outskirts of town. The unit advanced forward cautiously with weapons ready and prepared for anything. Steeler instructed Snake-Eyes to further his distance from the group by pushing forward. "Snake, looks like we're two miles from the prison. Press forward another hundred feet and keep the pathway clear and quiet. You know what to do."

Steeler was fully aware that if he had given this order to anyone else, it could have easily been a death sentence. But as it stood, both Steeler _and_ Snake-Eyes knew this was a solid tactical move. If anyone could get the drop on the enemy and keep things silent… or even something as essential as detecting a hidden enemy defensive system such as hidden cameras or silent trip alarms, it would be Snake-Eyes.

Most of the unit didn't know much about Snake-Eyes background or his experience in the military before he joined the team, but Steeler recalled one of the stories about Snake during his younger days while serving in Iraq. Snake-Eyes had been on patrol and spotted an IED… from over seventy-five feet away. A _buried _IED. Something about how the dust pattern didn't match up with the rest of the road.

Now _that _was someone Steeler could use at point.

Low-Light followed the silent warrior carefully, keeping low to the ground and holding his rifle close… approximately halfway between Snake-Eyes and the tank. Barbecue and Blowtorch pressed forward just ahead of the tank; Barbecue took the left flank while Blowtorch took the right.

Recondo took the rear position, making sure no one would sneak up on them; he spent half of his time looking behind the group for signs of ambush as often as he focused up ahead. As-is, Flash's state-of-the-art defensive electronic system could detect heat signatures emitting almost a half-mile around the tank as well as detecting movement early enough to give them warning of an ambush or attack… but Recondo wanted to make sure. One couldn't always trust electronics.

The caravan of one continued like this for what felt like several hours, as they all realized combat was very likely to break out – and soon. Inside the Flagg, Flash relayed to Steeler, "We're getting a hit. Looks like a small gathering up ahead, just ahead of Snake-Eyes. Based on our grid coordinates, they are most likely militia, or affiliated with Wolken Prison."

"Roger," Steeler said. "Pass it on to the team – make sure Snake knows about it."

"You got it." While the team was on radio silence, they had an intercom system that allowed them to communicate with each other as long as they remained within a one mile radius; the hardware on the tank… as well designed as it was, ensured that the transmission was secure and couldn't be intercepted.

"Echo Team, be advised, we have three unidentified one-hundred meters Northeast of Snake's position, and several more about three-hundred meters beyond them. Most likely enemy forces. If armed, take them out. Quietly and quickly."

Snake-Eyes acknowledged with a double-click of the transmitter, while the others replied vocally... "Barbecue copies", "Blowtorch copies", "Low-Light copies", "Recondo copies".

Snake had the lead on this one. Low-Light had Snake-Eyes barely in sight but adjusted his NVG's to pinpoint the warrior. Even then, Snake-Eyes knew how to manipulate the terrain to his advantage and was _still _difficult for Low-Light to see. Low-Light crossed the road… laying low to the surface and falling in line behind the dark ninja.

Even without his night vision goggles – Snake-Eyes preferred to not use them whenever possible since his eyes were already trained to penetrate the darkness and the NVG's were just bulky enough to slightly throw off his balance – he could see the faint outline of all three enemy soldiers that Flash pointed out. The closer he approached the slower and more deliberate he moved his body. Carefully, still low to the ground and with extreme patience, Snake quietly grasped the hilt of his sword. The silent ninja didn't even make a sound with his leather glove as he slowly bent his fingers around the hilt, nor was there any noise from his carbon-steel sword as he drew it out of its sheath. With his free hand, he reached upwards to unstrap his combat knife out of its sheath… drawing it out smoothly in one slow motion.

As an experienced warrior of the night, Snake-Eyes already knew exactly where to step to remain within the black shadows of the trees and trenches. Even Low-Light had a hard time seeing his position. Turning around to check his own position, Low-Light spotted Barbecue approaching slowly for back-up assistance.

Low-Life felt a slight smile creeping up on his face, knowing full well that Snake-Eyes probably didn't even need the back-up. Still, combat was combat and nothing was predictable. Better safe and prepared. He slowly and quietly pulled his assault rifle out in case he needed to give Snake cover.

_They're armed,_ Snake-Eyes noticed. _Enemy combatants verified. _That was all he needed to take action. Snake-Eyes put the knife in his teeth.

He was on them before they realized what happened. Slowly rising up behind the first soldier, Snake-Eyes covered his mouth with one hand and with lightning speed cut his throat with the other. The soldier dropped to the ground without making a sound, never realizing what happened. Snake-Eyes leaped forward… before the first body ever hit the ground, Snake sliced diagonally through the air, cutting through the second foe. Simultaneously he dropped his knife into his free hand. The third soldier had noticed something out of the corner of his eye and began to turn towards him… but before he could even react – let alone raise a weapon – Snake-Eyes lurched forward in a lunge, stabbing his knife in the chest of the last enemy.

Still in his low-positioned lunge, scanning the horizon for the next threat, Snake-Eyes quietly slid his knife and sword back in their sheaths. Even without looking backwards, Snake signed a thumbs-up to Low-Light, letting him know it was all clear.

_I like his style, _Low-Light thought, unable to resist giving a smile.

"Nice work Snake," Flash relayed through the intercom system. "There are more up ahead though. Quite a few more; you might need some help for this one. Low-Light, back him up. Barbecue, give them cover."

"Got it, boss," Low-Light replied in a deep but quiet voice, quickly slinging his rifle over his shoulder and instead drawing his silencer.

Snake-Eyes and Low-Light immediately noticed the tension in the voice of Flash as he spoke over the intercom: "Echo Team, standby. Something's up with our equipment. We're being spiked… shit, we've been made!" _This SHOULDN'T be possible! _Inside the tank, Flash told the commander, "Steeler, tons of heat signatures are popping up. Someone jammed our radar so we couldn't pick them up until now."

A hail of gunfire erupted from behind the group. "We're under fire!" Recondo could be heard on the radio, along with his return-fire. "Aahh..!" he screamed over the radio. It wasn't a scream like a battle cry, but a scream of pain. All on the radios knew that he had been hit.

Blowtorch and Barbecue ran back behind the tank to assist – weapons drawn and spreading out cover fire – trying to get the position of the attacking enemies so they could accurately return fire and cover Recondo at the same time.

"Guess its action time," Grand Slam told the others inside the tank, immediately taking up the pre-loaded turret. Steeler went for the M2 machine gun while Clutch manned the mounted M240 on the right side of the tank.

"You see anyone with a weapon that's not ours, your cleared to fire," Steeler told his crew, simultaneously swinging his mounted weapon towards the rear. Clutch did the same, locating one… no, two hostiles hiding behind the trees. They both opened fire.

"Flash, you said we couldn't be detected in this thing!" Cover Girl shouted, awaiting orders to move the tank, currently keeping its position.

"They shouldn't have seen us coming! They must have some serious technology to jam our equipment. The kind of technology that Borovia SHOULD NOT have," he said, frustrated by the developments.

Blowtorch moved forward to grab Recondo. The jungleman appeared to be seriously wounded and laying on his side, but with his weapon still in his hands he fired into the tree line where the enemies had ambushed them. Gritting through his teeth, Recondo shouted to the others, "I saw at least four of them… but know there's more… I dropped one already but couldn't take cover in time…"

Blowtorch, standing next to the tank and waiting for cover fire to allow him to rush forward and grab Recondo, shouted, "Don't worry, we got your back." Turning to Barbecue, he yelled, "They're out of torching range, cover me!" Barbecue opened fire on the enemy… he could see at least three of them, but saw tracers in the night coming from other directions, making at least six hostiles.

Barbecue was finally able to see a few targets pop up. One enemy stepped out from behind a tree to fire, but Barbecue was quicker; he put more than a few rounds in his chest. Another combatant tried to run across the path from treeline to treeline – clearly a novice enemy – making it easy for Barbecue to drop him.

"Cover Girl, put it in reverse and a forty-five degree angle. Give them some cover with the tank so they can grab Recondo," Steeler ordered, still blazing away.

Grand Slam turned the turret around, more for intimidation purposes than practicality. Since he couldn't see a target larger than a human, there wasn't a need to waste the heavy artillery – the best he could do was make a few trees explode and scare the hostiles. But he was clearly anxious to open up his artillery… "Come on, show me something," he whispered to himself. "Come get some Slam." He was restless, wanting to cause some damage… but he had to be patient. That was the hardest part about being a soldier, sometimes.

As Cover Girl moved the Flagg slightly backwards and to a slight diagonal position, the tank gave Blowtorch enough cover to rush forward and grab Recondo. Bullet after bullet bounced off of the Flagg; Cover Girl had moved it in position just in time, saving both Recondo and Blowtorch.

Blowtorch let go of his weapon which dangled by the strap across shoulders, freeing up his hands to grab Recondo with both hands and drag him back in an attempt to get him to safety. He realized that Recondo had taken a few bullets – one in the left leg, and one in the upper left shoulder, but they didn't appear life-threatening. _He'll pull through_, he thought, even though Recondo was in great pain, screaming and gritting his teeth. Recondo was desperately trying to help the team by firing back as Blowtorch dragged him, but the pain was so intense that he aiming his weapon was a serious challenge.

XXXXX

Meanwhile, Snake-Eyes and Low-Light dropped down and tucked low next to some bushes realizing that the force ahead of them had been alerted to the firefight between the Flagg and the ground soldiers – the enemy force had turned around to check it out. Turned around… right in the direction of Snake-Eyes and Low-Light.

As the enemy soldiers rushed forward, Snake-Eyes and Low-Light remained still in an attempt to blend in to their surroundings – but fully ready to take on the hoard head-on… even if it meant suicide. Fortunately, most of the hostiles ran right by the two. Whispering as quietly as he could, Low-Light made a transmission in order to warn the Flagg: "Steeler, this is Low-Light. You have more coming from the front. Me and Snake will take out as many as we can, but we're pinned down for now".

"Copy that, Low-Light."

Still looking forward, Snake-Eyes and Low-Light both saw only a few left that hadn't moved forward – about five hostiles. It looked like they were heading back to get reinforcements.

_We have to stop them,_ Snake-Eyes thought to himself, running after them as swiftly as he could.

Standing up and taking aim, Low-Light fired away, silently taking out two men with two bullets – the first one was easy… a close-range shot right in the head; the second one took a round in the back, right through the heart. By the time they had dropped, he couldn't get a bead on the remaining three due to cover from the trees and the sloping terrain.

Snake-Eyes gave chase, throwing a pair of razor-sharp ninja stars just as quickly as he drew them out. Both connected, dropping two of them to the ground.

Like Low-Light, however, he didn't have an angle on the last guy, and regrettably couldn't keep chasing him all night since the team needed him – still in the firefight. Splitting up the team in this way would be detrimental, and that was the last thing they needed… especially with their position compromised much, much earlier than expected.

Clearly upset that one escaped, Snake-Eyes faced the fact that all he could do was grind his jaw and turn around to help out the others before reinforcements for the Borovians arrived.

XXXXX

"One got away, Steeler," Low-Light told him, passing on the bad news, as he and Snake-Eyes headed back towards the tank as fast as they could. Both Snake-Eyes and Low-Light were at least able to fire on the enemy troops that had run right by them earlier; in this way, they were able to protect the Flagg and cause further confusion among the enemy forces – confusion in the fog of war. One after another dropped; Snake-Eyes and Low-Light gunned down at least ten each before their opponents even realized that they were being fired upon from both sides. The enemy soldiers split up in random directions to avoid getting mowed down like motionless cattle. Their casualties were catastrophic.

The other battlefront – the one behind the Flagg – was still at a stalemate. The enemies were holed up enough to stand their ground, even against expert American soldiers… given their advantage of surprise and their sheer force of numbers.

"Grenades!" Barbecue shouted, seeing two grenades hurling towards them from the enemies holed up at the tree line. Clutch swung his weapon around and took out the first grenadier who was close enough to throw them, but not fast enough to prevent them from sailing in the air in slow motion. Barbecue ran forward, grabbing one of them and hurling it back, eyes wide open. _Don't explode don't explode don't explode...! _Successful, the grenade detonated in mid-air before it had a chance to hit the ground – another half a second, and Barbecue would have been blown up.

The second grenade landed just out of his reach – close enough to kill him, but far enough away that he couldn't grab and hurl that one back, too. Flinching and expecting the worst, his life flashed before his eyes.

"Recondo!" Blowtorch shouted, oblivious of the grenades, witnessing the injured warrior break free from his grasp, drop his weapon, and run forward as fast as he could despite his leg and shoulder wounds. Too weak to grab the grenade and throw it back, he fell flat on it… flat on the grenade. On his stomach.

The grenade exploded.

Barbecue and Blowtorch could hardly believe what had just transpired – it was so surreal, like a horrible nightmare that one couldn't wake up from. Recondo was blown to pieces – he dove on the grenade willingly… all to save their lives. No final heroic words – he just… he just _did _it. That quick, and without hesitation. Shrapnel from the grenade had blown apart his stomach and exited out of his back... there was no saving Recondo, not this time.

Neither Barbecue nor Blowtorch could speak. Although after a long one-second period that felt like hours and hours, they were able to gather themselves out of pure instinct. They sustained their fire down range, attempting to refocus the dramatic event that just unfolded before their very eyes to returning back to combat.

"Steeler, Recondo's gone! _He's GONE! _He took the grenade!" Barbecue shouted into the microphone as he fired his weapon.

Steeler had missed Recondo's heroic action; he had long since turned the turret forward by this time, facing the direction of Snake-Eyes and Low-Light and returning fire at the new intruders. He sighed before responding. "Copy that. Continue mission objective, we'll deal with it later. Just keep your mind's sharp and clear."

Losing a team member was never easy, Steeler knew. As a veteran with many more years on the team than Blowtorch or Barbecue, all he could do was hope that they would be able to maintain their battle edge after having just lost their friend right before their very eyes.

XXXXX

Snake had also heard over the radio what had happened to Recondo. His heart weighed heavy for the man… the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach started to churn, but he also knew that war didn't slow for anyone. It was times like these that one had to work even harder to focus on the battle, or else there would be more dead bodies. It was as simple as that. There would be time to grieve later… there always was; but now was not the time. In fact, Snake reasoned, it was times like this that the morale of the enemy increased, making them bolder, deadlier, and willing to fight back even harder. Which meant that _their_ team had to stop them like an iron wall and counter-attack with _everything_ they had… not holding back a single thing in their arsenal.

Flash snapped everyone back to reality. "Grand Slam! We have company from the front fast approaching. Looks like four enemy tanks are moving forward. They came from nowhere… get ready to blast'em. Just like the enemies on the ground, we should have picked them up miles ago... This is gonna get interesting."

Steeler, Snake-Eyes, and Low-Light had mowed down most of the enemies in front of the tank while the few surviving ones had scattered, and most of the combat had died down from behind the group, thanks to Clutch and Barbecue.

"Cover girl, start moving forward until we get within firing range of those tanks. We have better range then they do. After that, we'll head to the prison and get our guys. Snake, Low-Light, you two are primary extraction. If you can get by those tanks undetected, go get Whiskey Team out of there. The rest of us will catch up as soon as we can. We wait any longer, and they'll kill Whisky Team… they obviously know we're coming at this point so you two need to rely on the advantage of surprise." Steeler knew this was going to be a tough fight, and could have used those two, but nonetheless two men were no match going solo against a tank. Even men such as Snake-Eyes and Low-Light. Their best shot was to use their increased range to take them out.

Flash added, "Steeler, they have some ground troops with them, but the tanks are clearly the biggest threat. But be careful… I know our equipment isn't malfunctioning, but somehow something is jamming it just enough so we can't detect enemy movement until the last minute. There is no way Borovians are behind this… even if they had the technology to pull this of, it would be so advanced they wouldn't know how to use it."

"That makes sense. Just keep us alive, Flash," Steeler replied.

XXXXX

Blowtorch, still visibly shaken, had grabbed what was left of Recondo's dog tags. "S..sorry, buddy. W.. we can't take you with us, except… for your tags. I'd do more if I could..but…"

He couldn't shake the image of Recondos body exploding . The sacrifice that he made – the one that Blowtorch felt like he should have made. _If only I'd seen that grenade, you'd still be alive, Recondo… it should have been me instead…_

Mustering all the will power that he could, Blowtorch turned away from Recondo, leaving him… or what was left of him. With a great reluctance.

Blowtorch moved forward right behind Barbecue… both of them split away from the tank and took cover by the leafless trees knowing full well that the big guns would certainly be coming for the Flagg; no place for a foot soldier to be.

Besides, Blowtorch's sorrow was quickly changing in the face of battle. Changing from sorrow to anger. From anger to rage. Rage to hate. It was time to set the world on fire… starting with whatever Borovian sack of shit dared to step in front of him.

XXXXX

"Hey Cover girl," Grand Slam asked. "How much do you wanna bet that our first shot's a direct hit?" He was honestly trying to put the group at ease by making jokes, taking their mind off of Recondo.

He sat right next to Recondo at the chow hall the other day, and recalled how they were talking about the Monday Night Football game the night before… how the Bears beat the Packers because Green Bay choked by racking up penalties all night, and all at the wrong time. Outside of the mission, it was the last time he would see him alive.

"_Recondo's GONE! He took the grenade!"…_ Grand Slam could still hear it echo his head. But now wasn't the time to dwell on that; there would be a time, and a place. But not here. Not now.

Cover Girl smiled, which he couldn't see due to his angle and her bulky helmet. "You're expected to, show off! That's your job! Seems how you have all the experience, I'd be disappointed if you didn't hit it first time around, slugger."

He chuckled. _Love it when she calls me that,_ he thought.

"Hey, 'slugger'," Flash said, mocking him. "They're fast approaching range. Expect your shot in 15 seconds. Cover Girl, hold position."

She brought the tank to a halt.

_It sounds less sexy when he says it, _Grand Slam said, wincing. _All well, let's focus._ "Roger that, tell me when. Sights adjusted, ready to fire. Clutch, stand by to reload. The Slam's gonna need some rapid firing to take these guys out."

"Stop talking about yourself in the third person, freak," Clutch told him. Because Clutch, Steeler, and Grand Slam were part of 'The Original Three', as the others on the team called them, they were prone to ragging on each other. Not as much with Steeler anymore, though, since he was the tank commander, leaving Grand Slam and Clutch duking it out with each other.

"THE SLAM," he said, in an exaggerated voice, "Is going to get some. Watch this!"

Steeler shook his head. It was well known in the military that anyone saying "Watch this" (often followed by "hold my beer") would lead their team to disaster. It momentarily brought him back to the moment that he was at the bar with Countdown, several months back, swapping war stories about their time before they had joined the unit. One of the more memorable things that Steeler took away was when Countdown told him that there was more than one black box somewhere out there that had the final transmission of "Watch this".

"3..2..1..fire!" Flash directed. "Roger, Fire one," Grand Slam echoed, pulling the trigger.

XXXXX

Snake-Eyes witnessed an incredible sight. He was positioned halfway between their tank and the four enemy tanks… and flanked far to the side; he watched as the Flagg fired off a 120mm round, blasting dead-center on the second tank in line. The enemy tank went up in a blazing fire; it's metal skin peeled off like snowflakes caught in a snowstorm. Nothing remained except for a smoking crater.

XXXXX

"SLAM! TOLD YA!" Grand Slam shouted in a deep excited voice, but still maintaining his focus as Clutch reloaded the cannon. Not to be outdone, Clutch told him, "Looked more like a bunt to me. Maybe we should change your code name to "Bunt!" Grand Slam couldn't be sure through the noise inside the tank and the gunfire outside, but he could have sworn he heard Cover Girl giggle.

"Oh yea? At least I'm not named after a part of an automobile…_Clutch!" _Grand Slam countered, "Least of all the part that gets stepped on!"

Flash told Clutch, breaking up the competition of the two men, "Load fast, we only have seven seconds until the other three are within range of firing at us…"

XXXXX

One of the three remaining tanks returned fire, but it fell short of the M155 Flagg. It looked like they were just out of range. Snake guessed that the enemy tank commander was a bit jumpy after seeing the tank next to him explode and commanded his gunner to fire too early.

Snake beckoned to Low-Light and kept moving towards the prison… still far away by foot, hoping to move inside the shadows as to not be seen by the enemy foot soldiers or, worse yet, the enemy tanks.

Another blast fired from the Flagg, penetrating the fourth tank on the far end – it struck true, and the enemy tank exploded in orange flames, lighting up the night sky. There was nothing left of it but pieces and maybe half of the tank tracks. So far, it seemed like the battle was shifting to the good guys.

The remaining two tanks were within range. Both fired at the Flagg.

The first tank missed, falling just wide of the tank, but close enough that it caused a massive explosion that jolted everyone inside.

The second tank fired a direct hit on the Flagg.

Witnessing the impact, Snake-Eyes looked at Low-Light and shook his head. _Oh no, they're dead. That was a direct hit. No one could survive that. Our mission... _A thick, black smoke engulfed the entire area of where the Flagg should have been.

But then…

The smoke cleared.

The U.S. M155 Flagg Tank was unfazed. Snake was amazed. _Flash was right. The armor on our tank is incredible! It should have blown up our tank sky high. Nice work, Flash._

A third round fired out of the Flagg tank; it looked like Tango Team was heading for a sweep of the enemy opposition. Had the enemy tank failed to make a slight turn around a large tree stump at the last split-second as it fired against the Flagg, it would have been destroyed. As it was, the round hammered the side of the third tank, blasting off one of its tracks – it didn't destroy the tank, but certainly crippled it. _Well, two and a half kills out of three shots isn't bad,_ Snake-Eyes thought.


	22. Ch 22: Terror Unmasked

**CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: TERROR UNMASKED**

"Under attack? We are already having difficulties with the prisoners, and now you tell me we are under attack?" The Wraith hissed through his teeth… its glowing eyes seeming to penetrate the very soul of the unfortunate Borovian soldier reporting the bad news. This was far beyond unacceptable, The Wraith reasoned, realizing his prison could possibly soon be under siege by a small – but unknown – contingent of American forces.

"Sir," the guard reported, "We've been able to jam their interrogation system successfully, so far. Our tanks have engaged them. Scrap-Iron is manning the anti-tank system, flanking from the side. That should disable them… if anyone knows how to destroy a tank, it's him. And Overkill has the prisoners pinned down, we are told, and should be able to reacquire them within a short manner of time."

For a moment, Wraith was quiet. If one could see underneath his steel ninja mask, they would see a great amount of displeasure. Between the combat outside and the revolting prisoners inside, he had to divide his troops in order to gain control of Wolken Prison. Turning to the man who spoke, he murmured, very clearly in a deep rumbling voice, "See to it both the invaders and the prisoners are defeated. Mobilize all the guards we have. Send Alpha, Charlie, and Delta teams out to the field, and send Bravo to give Overkill backup. Make sure Scrap-Iron has all the support he needs. Take the enemy _out!_"

XXXXX

Loaded and ready to fire! Our cloaking system is good, and we're on their flank as you ordered, Scrap-Iron, the man said in native Borovian.

"Speak in English. I'm not getting paid enough to listen to you in your language," Scrap-Iron barked, truly annoyed that the Borovian soldiers very words had the potential to distract him from his job, forcing him to take even more careful and deliberate aim in the anti-tank vehicle. "And our cloaking better hold out, especially with all the money Scalpel paid for it. Our invisibility should be your number one focus. I know good and well when we're ready to fire." _This is what they give me to work with. No wonder this country has crumbled._

An expert in tank warfare, his true passion lied in anti-tank weaponry. There was nothing quite like watching an enemy tank explode when hit with a tank piercing weapon; especially a specifically developed weapon… a highly powerful exploding missile, in this case. Scrap-Iron had made an art form out of destroying enemy tanks. He had even scored seven confirmed tank kills – three of which were by himself – earlier in his mercenary career back during the Soviet-Afghanistan conflict. His prowess and accomplishments made him a legend in the underworld, not to mention it had a huge effect on his pocketbook, skyrocketing his merc-for-hire fee and ensuring his availability to only the truly wealthy.

Scrap-Irons eyes widened. Off in the distance… far in the distance, the target did something unexpected. The target – a heavily armored American tank called the M155 Flagg, only visible through his onboard radar system – spotted them. Yelling at his crew, he said, "I _told_ you to make sure we were cloaked and hidden!"

The turret of the Flagg started to turn in their direction. Breathing heavily but with steady hands, Scrap-Iron took careful aim. _This is going to be close,_ he thought to himself. Time seemed to stand still, but the mercenary was patient.

He squeezed the trigger, now confident that he'd be able to hit the American tank _just_ before they could return fire.


	23. Ch 23: Battlezone Pt I

**CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: BATTLE ZONE, PT I**

"TURN HARD LEFT! Grand Slam, ninety degrees left… they just popped up on radar…" Flash tried to warn the tank crew and Grand Slam turned to fire, but the opponent's element of surprise shifted the scales of combat. An anti-tank vehicle off in the distance, fully armed to the teeth, had popped up on the radar much later than it should have.

Before Grand Slam could line up the turret, the enemy fired.

It was a direct hit.

Crashing into the side of the Flagg, the missile exploded with enough force to blow apart several feet of solid enforced metal. Including titanium and adamantium… the strongest metal known to man – which was what the invulnerable Flagg tank was armored with. Whatever type of missile the anti-tank used, it didn't bounce off like the last missile; it shredded the metal armor and shook the entire tank with tremendous force.

XXXXX

Barbecue and Blowtorch were just as shocked as everyone as they saw the Flagg smoldering. "Holy Shit! Did you see that, Torch?" Barbecue cried aloud.

Blowtorch shouted back just as loud, momentarily forgetting his surroundings. "No fucking way! What on earth did they use? No way it should've blown apart that tank. Intel screwed this mission up bad!"

"What did we get into? These guys have better weapons than we do?" Barbecue asked out loud, looking at his partner.

Blowtorch and Barbecue didn't know how much of the Flagg had been penetrated after the last missile hit it, but were pretty sure they could see smoke coming out of it. They also knew it was possible some of them could still be alive inside… there was no doubt that some of them had died, but hopefully not all. Hopefully, with any luck… there would be survivors.

XXXXX

The concussion from the explosion knocked everyone from their feet. Grand Slam was on his back before he knew it. It sounded like people were screaming, but his head was reeling and his ears couldn't focus. The screams to him were very quiet – all he could hear were his ears ringing but the figures moving within the tank were frantic. All he could see were blurry movements whenever a figure crossed his eyesight. Cover Girl…was she… was she ok? The others… Steeler, Flash, Clutch. Turning his head, he saw no movement from Clutch or Flash. Steeler… at least he thought it was Steeler, moved towards the turret. His head was spinning.

Flat on his back, something… or someone, moved into his line of sight, but he couldn't quite make out what. Someone… with long hair. Someone holding him. Someone yelling and screaming, but with words that seemed to make no sound.

"James! James!"

She was calling his name; she was screaming it, even though he could barely hear her frantic voice. For a moment, he thought he heard her call him "Slugger". But he wasn't sure if it was his imagination_._

He saw Cover Girl turn from her position, trying to talk to Steeler. No, not talking… but yelling something at him, frantically. Her hands were held outward, palms up, covered in blood.

"Cc…c…..c…." he weakly tried to call her by her name. _Courtney, it's ok,_ he tried to say, desperately but calmly. He couldn't get her name out. _Don't cry, Courtney._ Throwing his head back, only a gurgle came out. He raised his hand towards her, trying to grab one of her bloody hands. _Is that her blood? Is it my blood?_

With a surreal motion, he placed his hand on Cover Girls hand, causing her to turned around. She held his hand in return, squeezing it tightly, even though the blood made it difficult for them to keep a grip on each other.

"Ccc…court…" he wanted to tell her how much he loved her. He knew it wasn't the time or place, but he had to let her know. His lips opened, trying to form the words. For some reason… very uncharacteristic of him, he full well knew… but for some reason, combat was far from his mind.

_I'll be ok, Courtney._ The words were in his mind, but couldn't roll off of his tongue. Not yet.

He heard her say something. Saw her lips move again. Was it "I love you?" He wasn't sure, but it sounded like it. It sounded like she said it, multiple times. Maybe he just wanted it to sound like it. He relaxed, knowing she was holding his hand tightly. She even leaned forward to hold him. It felt like he was in paradise, and he forgot about all the pain.

One last time, he opened his lips, trying to tell her that he loved her. His lips froze in place, unable to get the words out. He couldn't speak. He couldn't tell her. He couldn't do anything. He couldn't see anymore. He didn't hurt anymore. His blue eyes stared... Empty. He was gone.

Grand Slam was gone.

Cover Girl buried her head in his chest, sobbing.

XXXXX

When the last missile hit the Flagg, Snake-Eyes instinctively knew that it didn't merely "bounce" off of it like the last one. This one hit it good. Even though it was night and the tank was far away, he could recognize by the shape of the tank against an illuminated background of smouldering fire that there was much, _much_ metal bent on the Flagg. Metal that Hawk said wasn't supposed to break. Metal that was supposed to be invincible… he believed his exact words were.

Clenching his fist, Snake-Eyes couldn't help but compare the Flagg to the Titanic. How many times had history revealed the chinks in the armor of the invincible… of the unprepared…

The anti-tank was too far away from the infantry team, but of the two remaining enemy tanks, one of them was still mobile. With exhaust pouring out the back end, the tank headed towards the Flagg as fast as it could. _No, you don't, you bastards,_ Snake thought, holding his M-16 tightly.

It took just one look in Low-Light's eyes to see he was thinking the same thing. Low-Light nodded to Snake, pointed towards the rolling tank, and pulling out his sniper rifle. He put together the rifle in record time and slid down to the dusty ground on his belly, quickly adjusting his scope.

Snake smiled an iniquitous, vengeful smile underneath his mask. _He's no Shana, but he's pretty darn close when it comes to reading my mind._

XXXXX

Blowtorch and Barbecue both knew that it wasn't time to quit or retreat despite the turning tide of combat; in fact, if the Flagg was down, they needed to get in gear if they were to have any chance of recovering Tango Team. The immobile tank that the Flagg had disabled moments ago started firing at the Flagg once again – even though it had been blown off of its tracks, its weapons and ordnance were still fully functional.

The turret of the enemy tank turned slightly, adjusting its position. An ominous grinding sound rang in their ears with each degree that the turret turned. Even with its tracks blown off, it could still be lethal and they both knew it. The tank pointed its cannon at the Flagg.

"Blowtorch, _burn it!"_ Barbeque shouted, firing his M-16 at the tank. It was futile, he clearly knew even before his bullets started bouncing off of the armor, but hopefully he would draw them in his direction.

"_Weapons better than ours", my ass_, Blowtorch thought to himself after Barbecues previous comment. Giving a quick patting rub on the shaft of the flamethrower as he ran full speed towards the enemy tank, Blowtorch thought, _Don't listen to him, Bridgette. We'll show'm all what you're made of. _

Blowtorch ran forward as fast as possible, trying to get the tank within range, fully aware of Barbecues intentions to draw away fire.

The turret fired. The oversized round smashed into the Flagg, but unknown to the two infantrymen, it hit the side of the Flagg that was still fully armored and did little to no damage. But for all they knew, it could have very well been the fatal shot that wiped out all of Tango Team. There wasn't even enough time to look behind them and verify the damage that round had done.

By now, the gunners of the enemy tank had taken up their positions. While the Flagg was out of the range of all but their turret, they could still fire at Barbecue.

Bullets flew to the left and right of Barbecue, missing him by mere inches; the soldier was forced to dive for cover and was pinned down by enemy fire. He couldn't provide support fire for Blowtorch if these conditions persisted.

But now, with Blowtorch in sight and closer than Barbecue, one of the gunners switched his target to him. Even the darkness of the night couldn't hide him.

Blowtorch didn't dive for cover.

_They must think I'm insane, running towards them like this,_ Blowtorch thought, just praying for a few more steps so he'd be close enough to light them up. _Who'm I kidding…I _am _insane for doing this. I s__hould've worn what Snake-Eyes wore._

Blowtorch ducked and dodged, running full tilt and trying to get into range. He could see the tracers in the night flying right by him…too close for comfort. _This doesn't look good for me… _he wasn't going to make it. Still too much distance between them. He gritted his teeth, and kept running but was fully prepared to get mowed down. _At least I'll go down fighting. __Well, this is it, God. Guess I'll be seeing you soon._

All of the gunners opened fire on Blowtorch.

XXXXX

Snake-Eyes ran full speed towards the enemy tank which was still advancing towards the Flagg. He ran, as fast as he could. Ducking low when he had to; staying in the shadows as long as he could, but maintaining maximum speed like a black gazelle running in the night.

"Closer, closer…" Low-Light told himself as he patiently… _slowly_, controlled his breathing. With his sniper rifle perched on an old, wide stump, he carefully placed his finger on the trigger while looking through the night vision scope. There wasn't much he could do to stop the tank, but he could stop anyone that popped up out of it. Once they saw Snake coming, it would simply be a matter of time. The only problem was, as Low-Light saw it, they wouldn't see Snake until the last minute… making it more difficult to set up a shot. _All well. I could use a good challenge, especially since I don't have a spotter this time around. Maybe next time._

Low-Light saw an opening as the tank passed a tree with thick dead branches. The hatch on top of the tank popped open, followed by a head peering out and manning the guns. _Perfect,_ he thought, sarcastically. As if the enemy soldier could understand him, Low-Light thought, _You're not giving me much to work with._ Finger on the trigger, feeling the timing as the tank moved from the left to the right in his scope, he placed his sights upon the enemy. The solider quickly swung his guns forty-five degrees off the tank. _He spotted Snake,_ Low-Light thought to himself.

A crucial mistake. The soldier in the tank was now more visible since he turned; the side of his head was protected with his helmet, but Low-Light could clearly see his face. With a smooth motion – but much faster than Low-Light wanted, he lined up the crosshairs of his sniper rifle with the man's head. Low-Light took in a slow breath and gently, softly… squeezed the trigger.

XXXXX

As Snake-Eyes approached the tank, the gunner that had just spotted him in the darkness – and pointed his guns right at him – immediately fell. Not just any kind of falling; the head-snapped-backwards kind. Snake knew Low-Light hit his target.

Jumping up on the armored tank above the moving tracks with one quick motion, Snake didn't make so much as a sound as his padded boot struck the metal surface. Just as swiftly as he had leaped, he slung his M-16 over his shoulder while simultaneously pulling out his carbon-steel sword with one hand – now that he was within range for close quarters combat – and a grenade with his free hand.

On the other side of the tank – obscured from Low-Lights vision – was another gunner. He had already turned his weapons towards Snake-Eyes; the ninja realized that he was still comprehending the fact that his buddy had just been shot, yet wasn't fully aware of where the bullet had come from.

Snake-Eyes took this opportunity into motion, denying the enemy a chance to figure out what was going on. With one quick motion, Snake-Eyes swung his sword mightily at the remaining gunner. He never even knew Snake-Eyes was there. He never even felt a thing as his headless body slumped downward and his head bounced off of the tank and rolled down into the dirt below.

Just as quickly as he swung his blade, Snake yanked out the pin with his teeth and threw a grenade in the opening and down inside the tank. Had they never deployed gunners outside, he never would have had the chance. But with the hatch open, it made it easy.

Jumping off the tank, Snake heard his huge explosion from inside; the grenade went off just as advertised. The tank slowly rolled to a stop, and he could hear no noise inside after the explosion. It was clear that there were no survivors.

That left only the one tank, and it was immobile. _This one's up to Barbecue and Blowtorch,_ he thought.

XXXXX

Gunfire exploded from both sides. Blowtorch took a single large caliber round in the right shoulder, feeling the white-hot sting course through his veins; the forced of the bullet twisted his body partially to the right, as he kept running towards the tank. Most of his body armor absorbed the blow, but the size of the bullet still did damage. He still stumbled forward, trying to get within flamethrower distance.

Before any more rounds were able to plaster Blowtorch, the gunner took three rounds in the chest, dropping backwards.

Barbecue had fired, his aim true, finally able to pop out from his hiding spot – and just in time to take him out. He continued shooting at another gunner; this one had more protection than the last, but he still put a bullet in his shoulder. Not enough to kill him, but enough to get him off the gun for a moment and buy more time for Blowtorch.

He had only hoped he'd given Blowtorch a chance to get closer despite taking return fire of his own. _Ok, Arson, your turn. Light'em up,_ he thought in his head as if trying to communicate telepathically with Blowtorch. The return fire concentration was heavy, forcing Barbecue to dive back down to the ground and behind his cover once more.

Gritting his teeth and bearing through the pain, he ran closer to the tank and was finally within distance. _Finally._ Blowtorch aimed his flamethrower at the other gunner, pulling both the firing and ignition triggers which released the lethal top-secret fuel through the hose and out the nozzle, fully igniting the fuel stream. A large lick of fire blasted the remaining gunners, cremating them instantly. Blowtorch swept the flame across the rest of the tank; it was so hot and fast that almost immediately the metal started to melt. Whether or not the enemy soldiers realized that it was much more than a standard military issue flamethrower, Blowtorch didn't care; he watched the few remaining survivors scrambled out of the tank just as fast as they could. As Blowtorch swept back and forth with his weapon across the line of the tank… in particular the turret – effectively disabling its firepower and rendering it useless – he knew the tank was nothing more than a melted pile of metal.

But he still kept burning it.

Barbecue popped up out of his position, aiming through the gun site of his M-16 and moving forward to assist Blowtorch. As difficult for him as it was, he resisted the temptation to fire at the few survivors of the blazing tank.

Blowtorch felt differently. While he didn't waste time running after and frying any of the fleeing soldiers, he did hold the trigger much longer than necessary. Even in the dark night he could see from the illumination of the tank that the metal was bubbling as it melted away. _This is for Recondo, and for the guys in OUR tank, bitches. Eat it...!_ It wasn't until he felt Barbecue tap on his shoulder that he released the trigger; Barbecue had tried yelling at Blowtorch to stop but he couldn't hear him over the incredible amounts of noise from the flamethrower. If anyone remained within the tank, they were far beyond dead.

"Nice shootin', Tex, but I think you got'em," Barbecue shouted. "You smoked'em good." Blowtorch was expecting some kind of arsonist crack to follow, or possibly a lecture, but Barbecue didn't do either.

Barbecue felt the same way Blowtorch did… anger, hate, frustration… at the death of the team members. Worse yet, they didn't even know who – if anyone – was still alive after the Flagg was hammered. Still, he realized now was not the time to mention Blowtorch's overkill with his flamethrower.

Plus, Blowtorch was still bleeding from the round he took… a rather large round, but through all the adrenaline, he fought through the pain. Sweat ran off of his forehead, and his heart pounded like a jackrabbit. But now that the four tanks were destroyed, and his adrenaline surge was slowly starting to decrease, the pain was starting to set in.

"Sit down, Blowtorch, let's take a look at that shoulder and patch you up. Lay low in case anyone else spots us. Then we'll get back in the fight."

XXXXX

Just like everyone else, Steelers head was ringing after the impact of the anti-tank missile that Flagg took. He was a bit disoriented, but not impaired. Shrapnel had just skirted the left side of his body, with only a few chunks of metal here and there… flesh wounds only, but the concussion from the blast was what really threw him off.

He saw Grand Slam knocked backwards – hard. Steeler could instantly see blood coming from his gut, soaking his uniform red. Pools of blood.

Clutch wasn't near the impact area, but the force of the explosion threw him back as well, jarring his helmet off his head, leaving it vulnerable as he slammed it against the side of the tank, knocking him out cold.

Behind him, where the blast struck, he saw Flash.

Or what was left of him.

He was literally opened up; his upper right torso was…

Gone.

Mangled.

If he had time, Steeler would have thrown up. But he didn't. He didn't have time, and he didn't let it sink in. He refused to, and combat dictated that he wouldn't have had a choice anyway.

Somehow, through it all, Cover Girl was the only one that seemed to remain unaffected, since she was towards the front part of the tank, as the driver. She immediately went to check on Grand Slam, trying to see if he was still alive.

_None of us will be alive if we don't take that son of a bitch out,_ Steeler thought, heading towards the turret that Grand Slam was manning, though still a bit unsteady and with his head still ringing. Clutch had just finished loading it before they were hit, Steeler realized… which was extremely fortunate.

It would be hard without assistance, but he had no choice. The fire control computer had already calculated the enemies position, and even though the Flagg was hit hard, the information remained intact. As Steeler lined up the turret, he could see the enemy ready to fire again. _This is gonna be close,_ he told himself, heart beating.

Steeler had to line up the turret whereas the enemy didn't, but the opposition had to reload their cannon while Clutch had already made sure the Flagg was ready to fire. Steeler knew that whoever was in there was loading just as fast as they could, just as fast as he was taking aim.

It would come down to who could pull the trigger first. _I'm gonna turn your vehicle into scrap iron, you filthy bastards,_ Steeler said with resolve, focusing his aim while trying to make his head stop ringing. Gritting his teeth and with pure, raw… iron determination, Steeler was ready.

_They may have killed some of us, but they're not gonna get a second chance to destroy the Flagg. Not without a fight. _

Steeler…

and Scrap Iron…

both pulled the trigger.


	24. Ch 24: Battlezone Pt II

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: BATTLEZONE, PT II**

Within a split second after Steeler fired, the Flagg lurched forward.

Despite the tears in her eyes, Cover Girl had already taken back her position as tank driver. She couldn't mourn… not now; not while the others were still alive. Grand Slam and Flash were both dead. Clutch… she thought he was still alive too, but wasn't positive. And he certainly wasn't moving. If Steeler had been dead, she didn't know what she would have done. She didn't know if she would have been able to keep it together as the only survivor.

But at least Steeler was alive. She had to help the survivors out. Slamming the Flagg into full throttle, she knew that once Steeler fired it would have an auto-lock on the target even if the tanks rapid movement threw the turret slightly off. One of the advantages the Flagg had over other older generation tanks.

The return fire from the anti-tank missile barely struck the back end of the Flagg – had they been there a split second before Cover Girl pulled forward… it was something she didn't want to think about.

Cover Girl, looking at the panel in front of her, realized that the missile was an infrared guided missile, but the Flagg still had its auto defensive system up and running and disabled the missiles guidance system from far away. She realized they avoided another blow; if the guidance hadn't been disabled, they would have been history no matter what kind of driving Cover Girl had done.

The back end of the tank still was hit but the missile did minimal damage. Some of the titanium/adamantium armor on the back of the tank had been smashed but for the most part it deflected the missile off of its body.

Steelers shot, however, struck true.

In the biggest explosion the battle had seen so far, the anti-tank blew apart; metal flew about in every direction and lit up the night sky in a brilliant orange glow.

Steeler triumphantly shouted through a clenched jaw, still gritting his teeth, "YEA! Take THAT, assholes!"

Quickly switching to the electronic periscope he carefully scanned the outside area determining that there were no other threats were around. "Cover Girl, load us up. Looks like we're a two-man crew right now."

Instinctively, Cover Girl got up out of her position to load the turret… normally Clutch's job.

"Oh, and Cover Girl… nice work." Happy to be alive…for the moment, at least, Steeler smiled.

Cover Girl didn't.

XXXXX

Snake and Low-Light had met up with Barbecue and Blowtorch. Most of the enemy forces had fallen back in order to regroup, though the number of enemy soldiers had drastically been reduced. Between the four tanks and the anti-tank vehicle, most of the heavy artillery had been destroyed.

It wasn't until they saw the Flagg start to drive backwards, pulling out of battle, that their emotions became mixed.

Blowtorch was already on the radio. "Tango Team… come in. Tango Team… can you read me? Steeler, Flash… come in…" He had no luck.

"They probably lost their comms," Low-Light told him. "I'm amazed the tank can even roll at this point, and more amazed someone is alive enough inside to be driving that thing."

Blowtorch shook his head, looking at the others. Barbecue was the first to say what everyone was thinking, "I guess we do this without the Flagg. What do you think our life expectancy will be?"

Low-Light snickered silently. "You two I give 30 seconds…one minute tops. Me and Snake… we'll last about an hour."

Barbecue gave out a quiet chuckle back but still flipped Low-Light the bird.

Snake-Eyes, like the others, realized that there were some survivors on the Flagg. The only problem was, if they were backing up, it meant they weren't necessarily retreating; at the very least, they were regrouping and taking their time to patch each other up. Assuming more than one survived the blast. Looking at the other three, Snake nodded his head and with two fingers pointed towards the prison. They all knew what they had to do.

Press forward. Just the four of them… and without Tango Team. At least, for now.

Barbecue, trying to inspire confidence in the team, broke the silence while reloading a clip. "Looks like its just us. Hopefully they can catch up. You guys ready?"

Low-Light nodded, moving forward to take point and pulling his NVGs back down.

The four infantrymen laid low, preparing to sneak into the Wolken Prison… "sneak" being a word used loosely since the enemy knew they were out there. More than likely it would be a gunfight all the way to Whiskey Team. Snake moved up with Low-Light, assuming the scout position.

Blowtorch didn't look right, and Barbecue knew it. "You ok, man?" he asked, tapping him on his good shoulder.

"Yea," Blowtorch replied. "Let's get this over with." Readying his flamethrower, he moved in between Snake-Eyes and Low-Light, but kept a few paces behind them. Barbecue took the rear guard position… the position that was supposed to be Recondos.

The four moved forward without saying anything further.

XXXXX

The trick was to move as fast as possible, but without being spotted. The goal was to strike as quickly as possible while the enemy was retreating and regrouping… without giving up their position. With any luck, they'd be able to slip past some of the heavier gun turrets manned on the outside of the prison. They had the advantage of darkness and light cover from the old trees of the sparse forest, but they could only hope it would be enough.

Following Snake-Eyes, though, was the best guarantee for success. The other three knew it. Snake had done this several times over. From the mountains in Afghanistan to urban warfare in Iraq, he was the guy that could get from one point to another without being detected. All they had to do was follow him.

Almost immediately, Snake found a small, shallow ravine. It was enough for them to get real low and mask them in with the ground. _Hopefully this will keep us from being spotted with their NVGs, _he thought, moving forward in the lead position. He spotted a few stray enemy soldiers, but they were far away and licking their wounds. Damaged badly enough by previous fire that they couldn't make it all the way back to their heavily defended prison. Snake gave the sign for the group to get a little lower in the trench and to move forward… no need to blow their position on wounded ducks.

Eventually Snake-Eyes stopped, giving the "halt" signal to the group, crouching down low. Pointing back to Low-Light, he pointed up to the corner of the prison where there was a manned turret. Pointing to his own eyes with two fingers and then up to the turret, Snake-Eyes held out his hands as if he was holding a sniper rifle, finishing with a nod and a fairly big hint to Low-Light.

"Good call, Snake. Our position is great for sniping." Low-Light lowered his position, setting up his sniper rifle in order to take a shot. But there was a lot of commotion outside the gates; the enemy was starting to reorganize and return outside in well-armed search parties. They didn't have much time. "Well, looks like I'll be left behind once again," Low-Light muttered, realizing the other three would have to hoof it forward while he covered them.

"Sorry, buddy. You see that search party, fellas?" Barbecue asked the group. "Once they get close enough, we'll mow them down and make a break for it. Doesn't look like we can get around them tactically. What do you see up top, Low-Light? Can you cover us?"

Low-Light knew it didn't look good. "There's a lot of 'em. I'll do what I can, but you guys better run freakin' fast, if you know what I mean. You better lose them once you get inside, too. You've all seen the blueprints so you already know the nooks, crannies, and hiding places."

"Well," Blowtorch replied, "I'll have to use my rifle until we get inside, otherwise the flamethrower will mark our position. But I'm ready. On your mark, Snake."

Snake-Eyes nodded. The plan seemed solid, but it was going to hurt leaving a man behind to cover for them. The rescue party was down to three men. Still, they had to get their buddies out at all costs. It was time.


	25. Ch 25: Through My Enemies Eyes

From the author: First of all, thanks to Phoenix51 and Quathis and all others who continually leave positive reviews! I am truly grateful and it motivates me to keep writing, time permitting. And to willwrite4fics… thank you for your honest critique. It looks like fanfiction will not load certain keyboard characters which messed up my previous post of this chapter so I'll try again. Is this chapter up to par?

-AF Iron

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: THROUGH MY ENEMIES EYES**

Without warning, the soldier manning the turret fell backwards, out of his seat, with blood gushing out of his head.

Panic spread throughout the group of soldiers, showing their lack of organization. One shouted in his ethnic language, [Sniper! Look out!] The troops were scrambling up on the watchtower walls, desperately trying to figure out where the sniper was before one of them was next. [Hold your position! Scope them out… use your NVGs…]

While they were already lined up at the wall and searching, no one had been able to spot the sniper. Many of them ducked out of instinct and hid low behind the wall worried they were the next target.

Another man on the wall fell as a bullet rang out.

[We outnumber them! Find the shooter… they're out there!] the commander said in a desperate attempt to rally his troops. [We have the high ground!]

Finally, one of the guys spotted three heat signatures. [Over here, I see them! One-hundered meters forward, by our search party…]

Because the search party was gathered tightly, it wasn't hard for one of the soldiers on the wall to spot the three lone heat signatures – it was clear they were the invading enemies. However, the search party exposed themselves as easy targets because of that very same reason – they were grouped too closely together.

[They're dropping like flies! They're mowing right through our men!] one of the wall guards shouted, witnessing the three men advance forward and dropping their comrades as if they never even saw the threat. [Blast them!]

The bullets rained down on the intruders in an attempt to protect their own scouting search party (who still hadn't been able to locate the three intruders despite being fired upon). The soldiers on the wall couldn't believe that the section of infantry below had practically been wiped out almost immediately and within seconds – at least half of the group, anyway – but they were determined to make the three encroaching enemies pay. [Get them before they get inside!] another one shouted out loud, trying to bolster the confidence of his troops. [Radio the men below! Give the coordinates of the attacking enemy!]

Every single man on the wall was focused on the three invaders, oblivious to the outside threats around them. A loud explosion in the distance caught the ear of a few of them, but the importance of it was lost. But it didn't matter… nothing would matter within a fraction of a second later. It would be the last noise they ever heard.

The wall exploded as if a bomb went off. But it wasn't the detonation of a bomb… it was something that Snake-Eyes and the others weren't expecting.

Out of nowhere, the heavy shell from the Flagg sent bodies and hunks of concrete flying in all directions; the entire corner of the prison had practically collapsed.

Low-Light lowered his scope for the moment, his jaw hung agape and toothpick barely held on to his lower chapped lip. It was a rare moment of surprise for someone like him; Low-Light was a hard guy to impress but he certainly was at this moment. "Incredible…" he whispered, watching the explosion from a distance. "Nice work, guys…I did not see that one coming." It looked like Tango Team… whoever was still alive and inside the steel beast… had returned to give their team a hand and just in time.


	26. Ch 26: Infiltration aka The Wraith

AUTHORS NOTE: I believe this might be the best chapter to date, especially if you are a true blue Snake-Eyes fan. Let me know what you think…

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: INFILTRATION (aka THE WRAITH)**

There were only three members of Echo Team remaining in position to accomplish the current mission: Snake-Eyes, Barbecue, and Blowtorch. The extraction team had the odds stacked against them now that they were down to three men out of the original five. Cautiously and with weapons up, moving forward like a highly trained cohesive unit, they entered inside the dark walls of Wolken Prison.

Due to the chaos from the initial attack and…thankfully, the return of the Flagg and its nightmare shells, enemy forces had dispersed like scattering ants. As a result, Echo Team had been able to navigate through the prison with greater stealth and without much opposition. Any time an enemy guard had surfaced within their vision, one of the three was able to quickly disperse of the opponent. If they had the opportunity to avoid direct combat, they would duck out of sight.

Each team member had memorized the prison inside and out, at least according to the blue prints forwarded from Jinx. They pressed forward towards the coordinates where they had been told to most likely expect Whiskey Team. They were getting closer... only a few rooms away.

The strike team entered a long, empty room with jail cells on both sides of the room. They carefully scanned the area with their weapons held high as they prepared to pass through. The cells, each a small run down concrete room with a single row of iron bars for a narrow door centered in the concrete wall, appeared to be abandoned. All of the jail cell doors were wide open. Nonetheless, the angle of visibility wasn't good and each cell had to be checked thoroughly.

Snake-Eyes stopped, holding up his fist. _Could have sworn I heard something…_ He strained his ears as he and his silent team listened intently. But all he could hear was, occasionally, the distant noise of gunfire (most likely panic shots from jumpy Borovians outside Wolken Prison) and the sound of his own heartbeat.

Snake-Eyes continued extra cautiously, leading the way and moving towards the right side of the room. A cautious soldier never went down the middle when he didn't know what was there. Stepping around the corner of the first cell, his M-16 drawn… the cell was empty. So far so good.

Barbecue covered Snake by watching the left side of the room, including the empty cells, and remained only a few steps behind Snake while Blowtorch took the rear flank. Snake-Eyes moved forward to verify the next cell was empty.

But before he could turn the corner, an enemy soldier lurched out of the cell, shoving the bayonet of his rifle forward towards Snake-Eyes. Slightly surprised… but far from off guard, Snake did a quick side-step to the left, dropping his own rifle in order to grab the oppositions, and used his own momentum to toss him in front of Barbecue.

Before Barbecue could react, Snake-Eyes grabbed the weapon of the fallen enemy soldier and stabbed him with the bayonet on the end… the same weapon he tried to kill him with.

Still, as quickly as it happened, other hiding enemy soldiers popped out of their jail cells. It was a textbook ambush.

Blowtorch fired off his flamethrower; its range could only reach the first enemy, but he also knew it might distract the others just enough for them to drop their guard. And with Snake and Barbecue, the slightest distraction to the enemy was enough to take advantage of the situation and take them out.

Barbecue fired away with his M-16, ducking as low as he could to make himself a small target. Instantly he killed one, but the return fire was also dangerously close to him. He slowly started to back up towards the first cell but remained engaged in the firefight.

Realizing the trap that was sprung, and with his back to the enemies, Snake-Eyes quickly jumped inside the second cell that the soldier he killed was previously hiding in to buy a little time. His own M-16 was already on the ground and just out of his reach; the enemy fire was too heavy for him to run out and grab it… even for a soldier as fast as himself. The best he could do was draw a pair of throwing knives until he could reach his rifle, or at least get them within range for hand-to-hand combat.

"Behind us!" Blowtorch shouted, trying to turn around to face the new threat.

A tall man wearing some kind of gray body armor, wearing a grey helmet… but with glowing blue eye holes staring out… stood in the doorway, taking aim. Before Blowtorch had a chance to move, the armored man fired.

Nailing the fuel tank of the flamethrower on Blowtorches back, the force of the bullet dropped him to the side. _Oh thank the Lord,_ he initially thought,_ I'm alive. If this fuel didn't have such a high flashpoint we'd all be blown sky high… _But Blowtorch knew that he wasn't out of it just yet_._ The flamethrower was destroyed. It didn't explode…but was destroyed. His pride and joy was out of commission. _I bet Barbecue would be happy to see that, …assuming we make it out of here alive, that is._

The presence of the armored warrior appeared to lift the morale of the opposition. One of the soldiers cried, "Wraith, we have them pinned dow…" but before he could finish his sentence, two knives came hurling across the room, striking the soldier in the chest and dropping him to the ground before he knew what hit him. That gave Snake-Eyes enough time to lurch forward, bend down, and grab his M-16.

Barbecue turned to fire at The Wraith. Bullet after bullet slammed into him, and satisfaction flashed across Barbecues face for just a split second, initially unaware of how powerful the armor was. The armor of The Wraith had not only stopped the bullets, but it hardly knocked him off balance. Barbecue was bewildered. _That stopped an M-16? Are you kid…_

Leaping forward with outstanding speed, as quick as a flash… faster than possible by any human, The Wraith in a single motion pulled out his sword and cut down Barbecue, slashing him apart diagonally. Barbecue had tried to block the sword attack with his weapon, but The Wraith was too quick.

_No! _Snake-Eyes would have shouted as loud as he could have, had he the ability to speak. Disregarding his own M-16 (especially after realizing how ineffective Barbecues ammunition was against him), he drew his blade as quick as lightning.

Which was a good thing, because The Wraith was on top of Snake-Eyes in a flash. Snake barely had enough time to pull it from his scabbard; as is, the moment he drew it, he immediately parried the overhead attack from the man in the incredible grey armor, turning the force of his killing blow to the side.

Regaining his footing, Blowtorch pulled out his assault rifle. _The speed of this thing…incredible. Either he's not human, or the technology of that armor is amazing. Even if he was wearing Kevlar, he should have at least recoiled from the hit of Barbecues rounds._ Just thinking of Barbecues name snapped Blowtorch back to the reality of what had happened to his brother in arms. With one slash from that animal's sword, Barbecue…

Snake-Eyes and The Wraith were locked into combat, slashing and parrying, ducking and dodging. Blowtorch couldn't get an angle on him with his rifle as quickly as he was moving, but he did manage to shoot and kill the last threat in the room… outside of The Wraith himself. He ran over to Barbecue, to see how badly wounded he was, dragging him inside one of the cells for cover.

"Barbecue! Man, wake up!" Pulling out a small medical kit, he tried to stop the bleeding the best he could. He could see Barbecue, looking upward, barely conscious, but a lot of blood had spilled out. He was in bad, bad shape. Blowtorch was clearly torn between assisting Snake-Eyes in combat and trying to save Barbecue from bleeding to death. He had seen Snake-Eyes fight before and hoped he could stand up to The Wraith while he patched up Barbecue as quickly as he could. "Buy me some time, Snake…" he mumbled to himself as he elevated him and applied pressure to stop the bleeding.

Meanwhile, the two swordsmen kept dueling. _Man, he's quick. If this guy were normal speed, it'd still be a tough fight. The strength behind his blade _has_ to come from his armor. It's tremendous._ Snake-Eyes felt like he was losing the edge; it was hard to get anything past this guy. Quick, well-trained with a sword, and smart. He'd never fought anyone like this. Well… there was this one guy, a long, long time ago, but…

_An opening,_ Snake-eyes thought, seeing a critical error in The Wraiths defense. As The Wraith stepped forward in a lunge, he stepped a little too far. This allowed Snake to, in one swift motion, parry the sword to the outside, continue his twisting moment to do a full three-sixty spin while maintaining defense, and use his momentum to strike The Wraith right in the neck and decapitate him.

Perfect execution. The only problem was… his sword _didn't_ penetrate the armor. Not only was the armor evidently super-enhanced, but even the neck piece was super strong. There didn't seem to be a chink in his armor at all.

Worse yet, the sword stuck in his armor; Snake-Eyes took both of his hands to the hilt and tried to pry it loose. With a slight twist from The Wraith and a solid backswing with his arm, the sword flung from Snake-Eyes grip, and sailed across the room.

Blowtorch looked up, realizing Snake was losing, and was going to need help. But Barbecue was fading. Still, Blowtorch had done all he could for him given the medical equipment available. Hopefully he'd stabilize.

Blowtorch ran forward; he knew his ammunition was useless against him and didn't see any weak spots, so he did the next best thing; he started to hammer away at The Wraith with the butt of his gun.

His actions probably saved Snake-Eyes; it bought him enough time to back up and keep normal separation between him and The Wraith. The Wraith put an arm up in defense out of habit; when he did that, Blowtorch kept hammering away and unknowingly smashed the gun attached to The Wraiths arm. Still, The Wraith swung his arm backwards… broken gun and all, knocking Blowtorch off his feet and hurtling across the back of the room with tremendous force.

Snake-Eyes also knew the situation was getting desperate. The Wraith was attacking much more fiercely now that he was disarmed, and all Snake could do was duck, dodge, jump, and move back as quickly as he could. His back was… literally… against the wall. Snake's sword was still far from his grasp; The Wraith stood between the warrior and his sword. As the ghastly warrior swung at the man in black, trying to get in the kill blow, Snake… in desperation, lurched forwards to grab his wrist. With both hands, Snake had managed to grab his wrist… the one with the sword, to slow down his powerful swing. With two hands, Snake held his arm back and kicked as hard as he could in The Wraiths ribcage.

His foot practically bounced off of the armor.

Retaliating, The Wraith took a swing at Snake-Eyes with his free hand, barely missing as the speedy ninja ducked the blow that would have otherwise crushed his skull. The force of the punch impacted the concrete wall behind Snake, sending pieces of concrete flying off. Before Snake could counter, The Wraith took another rapid punch. This time the hook swing connected with Snake-Eyes, right along the side of his ribs.

The pain was intense. He had to reposition; a few more blows like that would take him out. Taking one hand off the wrist and pushing against The Wraiths chest, his hand slipped upwards and hit the face mask part of his helmet, actually knocking it upwards, revealing the face of evil behind the mask.

While the strength of The Wraith drove Snake-Eyes to his knees, it gave Snake a great resolve to see the face behind the mask. To stare within the eyes of evil. _You ARE human, aren't you? Super-power suit or otherwise, you can die just like we can. You're nothing more than flesh and blood, underneath it all. Just an evil version of Iron Man._ Snake mustered every ounce of strength he had… but dropped down to one knee, resisting the power behind The Wraith as best he could. Snake wondered how powerful this man would have been without his strength-suit.

The hand that slipped and knocked the facemask off was now blocking The Wraiths non-sword hand. The Wraith was trying to strangle him and almost had his neck. _Not like this. No way I'm going out like this, you bastard._ While Snake had an incredible intensity about him, he maintained his focus… his discipline. With every muscle in his body flexed as tightly as possible, his head and mind remained calm and relaxed. Rage would only lead him to making a mistake. And, no matter how strong The Wraith was in his super-suit, Snake-Eyes knew that the one who had more will would triumph. Mental will would always triumph over physical strength. Snake fought back… fought back with everything he had, for his life.

"Time to join your dead friends, weakling…" The Wraith said, speaking through clenched teeth…almost hissing.

Taking a deep breath, Snake dropped his free arm, grabbing a knife from his bandoleer. His throat was now unprotected. Seizing the opportunity, The Wraith quickly took advantage of his lack of defense and started choking the warrior in black with his free hand. Snake-Eyes throat was being crushed… even the armored gauntlets of The Wraith had the power of Sampson behind them.

Snake-Eyes felt his body slipping to the floor, with the weight of The Wraith on top of him.

The Wraith almost laughed. "Your sword couldn't hurt me, you really think your kn…"

His sentence was cut short.

_You're not armored everywhere, now, are you? _Underneath his black mask, Snake-Eyes face was filled with intensity… with strength, despite nearly having his windpipe crushed.

The Wraith dropped to the floor and on top of Snake-Eyes, lifeless. With a burst of force… and maybe a little bit of rage (believing he had earned the right to rage for a moment, now that this particular battle was over), Snake-Eyes kicked him off of him and slowly started to get back to his knees.

_I want my knife back._ Reaching towards the body of The Wraith, on a bended knee, Snake-Eyes pulled his knife out of his enemies face… the same unprotected face that had been exposed after Snake knocked his visor up.

Leaning over The Wraith's lifeless body, Snake-Eyes mentally told him, _Guess you do have a chink in your armor after all, don't you?_

XXXXX

With weapons drawn, Low-Light stepped into the room and ready to fire. Instead, they found that this room was already a war zone; bodies were strewn all around. Only one man was standing in this room, and even his black uniform had been torn in more than one spot revealing cuts and bruises on human skin. Snake-Eyes was bent over Blowtorch. "I'm fine, Snake. I'm glad you're ok. Check on Barbecue…" Blowtorch wheezed out as much as he could. While the pain was intense, he meant every word he said; he was truly concerned for Barbecue much more than himself.

"Snake, what went down?" Low-Light said, chewing on a toothpick. "Nevermind," he said, not wanting to take the time to decipher sign language. He was good on the combat signs, but as for holding a conversation Low-Light was a bit rusty.

Low-Light bent down to assist Snake with Barbecue. "We gotta get him out of here, and fast. Man, Snake, he's the one we had closest to a combat medic."

Snake nodded with calmness, though the frustration within him was boiling. Barbecue was patched up as well as he could, but it didn't look good.

Looking at Barbecue, and then at Blowtorch, Low-Light sighed. "Son of a bi… alright, I'll haul Barbecue out of here. Blowtorch looks like his bell is still ringing but can probably walk out of here with us. Man, Snake, I'm getting tired of not being at the center of the action."

*You almost died during our Chicago mission, as I recall. Isn't that close enough?* Snake-Eyes signed, a smile creeping up underneath his mask.

Low-Light chuckled, once he realized what Snake was signing. "Point well taken. Doesn't make me feel any better though, but thanks." Reaching down to get Barbecue, he said, "I'll be back as soon as I can, Snake. Good luck. Stay behind me, Blowtorch."

"No, I'm good. I'm going with Snake. I know he's a helluva wrecking ball flying solo, but I'm not going to stand idly by just because I got banged up. They still got our buddies, and I'm gonna help get them out."

Low-Light smiled, rolling his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. "Ok, then. Get some for me, will ya? I'll get Barbecue out of here." As gently as he could, he took Barbecue with him and headed back to the Flagg.

*One second, Low-Light. I grabbed this off of The Wraith. See if you guys can open it,* Snake signed, tossing a small piece of hardware to Low-Light. *Small, external drive, I think.*

Low-Light caught it, and quickly tucked it away. "You got it. Be careful, watch your six," he told them, quickly slipping away with Barbecue.

Nodding to the corridor to Blowtorch, Snake-Eyes grabbed his M-16, sheathed his sword, and carefully continued down the hallway with his weapon raised. Blowtorch followed, rifle in hand.


	27. Ch 27: Onward to Urbak

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: ONWARD TO URBAK **

The drive to Urbak was far devoid of any beautiful scenery. Scarlett found the winding roads up and down the ragged, barren mountainside to be more monotonous and repetitive than anything.

Vorona had parted ways with Mayday, Jinx, and Scarlett, remaining behind at the mansion to take care of her own countries mission, but not before being thanked over and over again by the Americans. Mayday, Jinx, and Scarlett gave her one final farewell and joined Ripcord in the limousine.

But the limo ride was short. They couldn't exactly show up at Urbak in a limo, so they were forced to leave the five star ride behind and acquire more appropriate means of travel – two small local cars. And by local, that meant small, junkie, beat up, and unreliable… all for the sake of blending in with the neighboring crowd traffic.

Worse yet, Scarlett drew the short straw and, while Jinx and Mayday had the luxury of riding in the following vehicle she was now stuck riding shotgun with the hard-ass parachuting instructor Ripcord. Her adrenaline was still high but wearing off quickly – long, boring drives across the Borovian mountains had a tendency to do that. Scarlett had no choice but to be patient.

Reality was setting in as the nature of Special Operations became much more clear to her since the nature of the job wasn't everything that the movies portrayed. Not to mention her instructors didn't include that piece of information either. Still, it was her first mission and she wasn't naïve enough to believe she had to know everything by the mission number one. She didn't have any doubts about signing up for the unit, but she didn't quite expect missions to go down like this. At least not on this end.

_Maybe I put too much stock into the glory and thrill of the fight. Snake-Eyes tried to warn me that this job isn't all it's cracked up to be. Well, nonetheless, we're still here in Borovia, and with one of the most important missions to date even if it involves showing my skin and/or a serious case of boredom. Let's stay positive. If nothing else, at least we were able to get those evening dresses off,_ Scarlett thought to herself, reaching down and massaging the backs of her heels.

Interrupting her train of thought, Ripcord spoke up breaking the silence. "Not a high-heeled kind-of-girl, are you?" Momentarily taking his eyes off the road, he moved his eyes up and down Scarlett, taking a few extra moments to watch her rub her foot.

He couldn't help but smile. "It's ok, harder to wield a crossbow in them, I can imagine."

She couldn't tell if his smile was genuine or sarcastic. "Well, let's just say that they aren't quite my style. Never was a girly-girl," she confessed. "Not ideal in martial arts, if you know what I mean." The redhead intentionally dropped a subtle hint about her skills, just in case he had other ideas. She'd never really worked with Ripcord before, but if he was anything like Clutch, well… the best defense in this case was a good offense.

Ripcord laughed, focusing back on the road. Apparently he got her double-meaning. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna steal you. Word is you're already taken and I don't play around with other men's ladies." He flirtatiously gave her a wink with his brown eyes.

"Taken?" Scarlett raised her eyebrow at him, not fond of the way he said it… as if she was someone's trophy girl.

"Yea, well… that's the word anyway. Not a big deal; I've seen quicker relationships develop in less time… even if you _are _just a rookie." He couldn't help but flash a devious smile, sensing she had a different view of things than he did.

"Hey, buddy, you are _way_ off base! You don't know a thing about me…" Scarlett made no efforts to hide the fact that she was getting furled up. _Who does he think he is… senior NCO or otherwise…_

His laugh was even louder this time. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger! All I know is what your boy Clutch told m…" before he could even finish his sentence, he was interrupted.

"CLUTCH?" she shouted. "Is _that_ who you thought… yea, right! I'd kick his ass even in his dreams! I wouldn't let him so much as touch a _picture _of me!"

"So… wait… you're _not_ with Clutch? He tells quite the different version from what you're telling me. So if you're not even _with_ him, then you two have never…"

Scarlett's face was matching the color of her hair. "Oh, my G… The closest we've been to a "relationship"", she added with over-exaggerated quotes, "was when I kneed him in the groin."

The vehicle almost swerved to the shoulder of the road towards the cliff side causing Scarlett to gulp and tense up every muscle in her body; Ripcord was laughing so hard that he had a difficult time focusing on the winding roadway.

After his laughing subsided, he asked her, "So, wait… you didn't stop me earlier when I implied you were in a relationship. SO... it would seem to me that you _are_ in a relationship with someone… just not him?" 

Scarlett wasn't quite sure what to say. He was twisting her words like a master interrogator, and she knew it. Her mouth opened, wanting to reply, but she wasn't prepared to respond. Finally, crossing her arms, as if she lost a guaranteed victory, she simply said, "It's none of your business."

"So…" Ripcord said, forming his own sentence in his mind before he spoke like a master prosecutor in a court of law, "So what you're telling me is he's not special enough for you to acknowledge? Like he has an embarrassing trait or something? Now it _does_ sound like you're dating Clutch."

_How did he just put me on the defense like that? _Trying to regain a foothold in what seemed like a battle of wits, she said, "I can assure you, it's not Clutch. Not if he was the last man on earth." That just seemed to make it worse... she practically realized what she said after it had already come out of her mouth.

"Well, if there was any doubt before, you pretty much just revealed with 100% certainty that it _is_ someone within the unit. You can tell me, you know… I'm good with secrets." Ripcord smiled genuinely; a bit playful, fully aware he was walking a fine line.

She almost threw her arms up in the air, exasperated.

Before she could answer, he chuckled, "It's ok, I'll back off. I just can't help but wonder why that information is so, …so, well…, classified!"

Scarlett found herself smiling, though it was unintentional. Nonetheless she was still a little huffy with him. "Ok, if you must know, I'm not seeing anyone! And even if I _was_ seeing someone, it doesn't matter, Sergeant Ripcord, sir."

_Ok, so its not exactly a lie… I mean me and Snake aren't really seeing each other, exactly… I mean…_

Continuing to analyze her much like a psychologist or a spy (at least that's what _she _thought), Ripcord said, "Well, if I had a girl like you, I certainly wouldn't keep it a secret."

_You know just the right words to say, don't you? You're such a player, Mr. Ripcord…_ Turning her head towards the window, looking outside… and with her nose just slightly up in the air, she maintained her tough-girl persona.

But she _was _flattered.

"If you had a girl like me, you wouldn't be able to keep up," she said, crossing her arms. Ripcord couldn't help but laugh.

Scarlett smiled, stifling a laugh herself.


	28. Ch 28: Prisoners Last Stand

**CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: ** **PRISONERS LAST STAND**

As Shipwreck and Deep Six rounded the corner the first thing they saw was a dark hulking silhouette in the hallway. It was easy to tell, judging by the massive size, that it was Overkill. The two men stared helplessly as Wet Suit slid lifelessly out of the arms of the oversized strangler and into a small wet puddle on the concrete floor of the cold, damp tunnel.

The lone surviving guardsman had returned – this time with other armed guards to help retrieve the prisoners. Reality had quickly set in with the realization that they had just lost one of their own – Shipwreck and Deep Six fired down the tunnel.

Overkill dodged out of the way, quickly falling back into the ranks of the armed guards that had just arrived on scene. They returned fired on the two escaped prisoners. The frontline guards held up ballistic shields protecting the second row of machine-gunners behind them, attacking like a well coordinated unit.

Shipwreck and Deep Six ducked back to the edge of the tunnel entrance taking strategic cover as bullets came within inches of striking them. They carefully fired their weapons down the hall; their precise and deliberate aim ensured they didn't needlessly put a bullet in the recently departed Wet Suit as well as saving their few precious rounds of ammunition. It took a lot of patience and precision to make their shots count. A few of their rounds connected with their targets, bypassing the ballistic shields and dropping a couple guardsmen. But despite their expert shots, other guards would step up and take the place of the fallen.

It reminded Shipwreck of the old sea parable about the Hydra; a monster… or better yet a dragon, with several heads. Whenever one of the heads was cut off, two more would grow back in its place. It was a monster that was almost impossible to kill.

A monster much like the collective force of the prison guards.

Torpedo and Gung Ho had arrived on scene behind Shipwreck and Deep Six. Torpedo couldn't do much without a weapon, but did manage to acquire a survival knife from the guardsman that Gung Ho took out. If nothing else, Torpedo did all he could to encourage his teammates, giving them hope and resolve. "Ship, Six, take steady aim; make every shot count. Hold on, Gung Ho. We'll get through this firefight."

Gung Ho tried to laugh, but his broken ribs spiked pain throughout his body, making him wince in pain instead. "I doubt it, Torpedo, buddy, but… at least, let's take out as many of them with us as we can. I can still squeeze the life out of a few more if they get close enough to me."

Bullets flew to the up and down the corridor and only the tracers were visible in the darkness, illuminating the area like the constant flash of lightning… noise echoed throughout the chamber like constant thunder.

Overkill, in the background, could be heard shouting orders. "I want as many of them alive as possible. I'll personally break them in two, just like I did their comrade!"

A bullet bounced off the wall right next to Deep Six's head, making him flinch and step back. Shipwreck kept firing, dropping another two more. It was hard to tell because of the dark, but it looked like their ranks might finally be thinning out.

Throughout the thunderous roar of the firefight, they heard Overkill screaming, "Kill them! Get up and fight!" The large jailer was clearly getting agitated and untrusting of the guards abilities. They could see him pull out his own assault rifle, grab a ballistic shield, and join the ranks of the guards firing down the tunnel. "Prepare to advance!"

Shipwreck and Deep Six were running low on ammunition but were determined to hold their position. Deep Six dropped another guard who had carelessly allowed his face to have too much exposure above his shield. The rest of the remaining guards… and Overkill… were starting to advance with shields up.

"Well, Six, I think this is it. Smoke as many as you can," Shipwreck cried to him across the open tunnel entrance.

All Torpedo could do was watch and hold his knife tightly. Gung Ho was still lying down, trying to recover as fast as he could even though he though it wasn't fast enough.

Bullets were getting closer to Shipwreck and Deep Six. Deep Six took a round in the arm… in his firing arm. Screaming in pain, he dropped his weapon.

Torpedo ran up quickly to grab the rifle with one hand and Deep Six with the other, pulling him out of the way of harm. As quick as he could, Torpedo took up his position and began to fire, still opposite Shipwreck. His first shot was aimed at Overkill – in fact, the bullet grazed his leg… not enough to drop him but enough to cause a bit of pain. And really make him angry.

But the approaching guards were overwhelming. A bullet also grazed Shipwrecks arm, up by his shoulder, but he held his weapon.

One of the guards in the middle took a bullet in the helmet from Torpedo; the force of the bullet knocked him off balance enough to where he lowered his shield. In that moment, Shipwreck took advantage of the opening and fired at the guard, shooting him in the neck. Shipwreck, realizing Torpedo had set him up for the shot, was impressed. "Nice move Torp! Guess you do still have that SEAL blood in ya..."

Shipwrecks celebration turned to swearing. "I'm out…" All of the ammo had been expended.

Torpedo ran out of bullets only seconds later. "I'm out, too." Turning behind the wall with his back against it, he looked over at Shipwreck, as if to say, "Well, this is it." He nodded to Ship… the kind of nod that said "It was a pleasure fighting by your side." Simultaneously, the two men dropped their empty weapons and pulled out the knives they confiscated from the guards during their escape.

Smoke canisters were thrown down the hall; the four Americans couldn't avoid it. They could only resist the fumes for so long, but then they were consumed, coughing and hacking, on their knees. The smoke was so overwhelming they couldn't even hold on to their knives for a last stand.

Recaptured. It didn't look like they would be going down fighting, after all. Every one of the four could practically foresee the future – their own execution.

There was no getting out of it this time. The guards, now wearing smoke masks to keep the gas out, approached the four Americans and trained their weapons on them.

Overkill stepped up, his weapon pointing at Torpedo. "You'll pay for your arrogance. NO ONE has ever taken up arms against me… or even shot me, for that matter… until now." A small trickle of blood ran down Overkill's leg.

"Won't be the last time," Torpedo quietly voiced with defiance, but also with an air of certainty and confidence in his very own words.

The gigantic villain slammed the butt of his weapon into the collar bone of Torpedo; a crunching sound echoed throughout the tunnel. Torpedo screamed out in pain. His team mates yelled at Overkill almost in unison, almost lurching up to attack Overkill, but the other guards threatened to shoot. The team knew that the guards were agitated and trigger-happy, just waiting for any one of them to "play hero" so they could justify blowing them away.

There was nothing any of them could do.

Overkill bragged, stepping on Torpedos broken collar bone, mashing it with his boot, "You die first… then, your friends. But they will die much more painfully than you. Let that be the last thought that runs through your head."

Torpedo screamed through the pain, but mentally was prepared to accept his fate. He gritted his teeth, shrugging the pain off, and closed his eyes. "We'll win. This doesn't mean it's over, not by a long shot."

Without so much as a word, Overkill pulled out his side arm, cocked his weapon, and pointed it at Torpedo's forehead.

One final shot echoed throughout the tunnel. It rang loudly, and then dissipated to a quiet standstill.


	29. Ch 29: Battle Damage

**CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: ** **BATTLE DAMAGE**

_This is it, _he thought. _This must be what death is like._

The shot rang through the air, and he twitched. He fell backwards, startled. Startled, and perplexed that he was still alive and breathing. His hands went up to his chest and torso searching for bullet holes or blood and realized that he hadn't been shot. Torpedo was still alive. He was in serious pain from a previously broken collarbone, but he was still alive.

Instead, Overkill dropped to his knees and fell forward to the ground; a round had blasted through his backside and out his chest, blood cascaded out of his body like a trickling waterfall.

Several hundred yards down the tunnel, Blowtorch stood tall and confident with his finger still on the trigger. As steady as his finger was, the rest of his body had just the slightest of shake to it caused by the adrenaline coursing throughout his body – but Blowtorch couldn't help but smile as he grabbed a piece of revenge for his buddies. _For Recondo. For Barbecue. For whoever else you killed, you bastard._

Within a split second later (although for Torpedo it felt as if time stood still for a moment) Snake-Eyes immediately opened up his M-16 on the rest of the guards. Carefully and with the utmost precision but with deadly precision… picking off the remaining prison guards one by one, Snake-Eyes made sure he didn't hit any of the others on his team.

Blowtorch began firing at the other guards along with Snake-Eyes after Overkill went down. Blowtorch yelled at Snake-Eyes above the loud firing of the machine guns, "Aim high if you can; looks like our guys are down low and on their knees."

The enemy guards had been caught by complete surprise. Over half of the guards had been annihilated immediately. The few surviving guardsmen turned around in a desperate effort to counterattack. Their disorganization and confusion… especially after having witnessed their team leader, Overkill, go down, disheartened them and they could see the tide of battle change almost instantaneously. They were losing the mental edge of combat.

Torpedo, Deep Six, and Shipwreck took the opportunity of confusion and went on the offensive. Grabbing their knives and staying low…trying to avoid getting hit by friendly fire, the three men each jumped towards the guard closest to them. Torpedo grabbed the back of the uniform of a guard firing down the tunnel at Snake-Eyes and Blowtorch; with his leg he took out the back of the knees of the guard, dropping him to his knees. With one swift motion Torpedo cut the throat of the enemy combatant. Deep Six wrapped his arm around the neck of another guard and stabbed him in the back, sliding his knife between his ribs piercing his heart. Shipwreck pounced on a guard that had already been shot in the leg and dropped to a knee – took both hands and shoved the knife in the temple of the guard as hard as he could.

It was less than a minute and there wasn't a single prison guard left standing. The three wounded sailors had never been so happy to see Blowtorch and Snake-Eyes.

"Snake-Eyes! Blowtorch! Your ugly mugs have never looked so good," Shipwreck shouted… smiling for the first time in who knows how long. Even Deep Six cracked a smile… something rare for the emotionless man.

Snake-Eyes couldn't help but think, _If they are this happy to see me and Blowtorch, I wonder how they would have reacted if they saw Scarlett instead? _

"Let's go, guys… rescue tank is waiting outside." Blowtorch stepped up to help Torpedo, trying to ignore the pain of his own wounds. Torpedo stood up, a bit shaky on his legs. "Help me with Gung-Ho," Torpedo said, helping Blowtorch hoist him up with his good arm. "Don't worry, Cajun, we'll get you help."

"Hey, Ship… Leatherneck… Wet Suit? Where are they? Are they…" He honestly held out a shred of hope that they were being held in a separate corner of the prison and that they could break them out… hoping against hope that they were still alive.

But the moment Shipwreck hung his head with refusal to make eye contact, Blowtorch immediately knew what had happened. Shipwreck simply shook his head "no" and nodded over to the lifeless body of Wet Suit.

"Man, I'm sorry…" Blowtorch felt sick to his stomach.

This mission was costly. Blowtorch looked at Snake. "The other team better find that doctor, rookies or not. Otherwise all of this is pointless and their deaths would be in vain."

The man of silence didn't respond, but he was thinking exactly the same thing.

XXXXX

The entire Wolken Prison compound had sustained an incredible amount of damage. Walls had collapsed, prison guards had scattered, and by the time that the few guards who remained loyal to the cause had regrouped, Tango and Echo Teams were long gone.

Far from the prison, Tango and Echo Teams headed to the rendezvous point where they would meet up with the C-130. They moved out as fast as they could… at least as fast as they could for a beat-up and heavily damaged unit. The Flagg was packed full. Inside, Grand Slam, Flash, and Wet Suit lay covered up and tucked towards the back in order to make room for Barbecue and Gung-Ho to lie down. It was far from a comfortable fit, but the best they could do for the time being. Torpedo and Deep Six, both splinted and bandaged up, were still weakened from their grueling interrogations and damage in battle. Because the Flagg was already full with the deceased, the wounded (at least more wounded than Torpedo and Deep Six), and the crew needed to operate the tank, the best they could do was ride on top of the tank as Cover Girl drove.

Clutch still held his position, but with the lack of healthy crewmembers he became more of an alternate gunner than a loader, though they still kept the turret loaded. He had spent his down time during the last firefight trying to fix up the tank as best as he could. It was Clutch who had moved his buddies Flash and Grand Slam to the corner where they kept normally kept the extra rounds of ammunition, though these rounds had long since been expended. He wanted to throw up… sick to his stomach, having to treat them in such a way as normal "cargo". But his living teammates needed the space.

Steeler still commanded the tank… a tank that looked more like a medivac vehicle than a machine of war. If necessary, he would man the main turret despite the cramped quarters. Hopefully they would be able to avoid combat the rest of the way; in their damaged condition, another fight could easily end up being their last fight.

Walking towards the side of the tank were Shipwreck and Blowtorch. Snake-Eyes and Low-Light took the front, just like always, hoping against hope that they would avoid any further enemy encounters. Or, if they encountered anyone that they couldn't avoid, they'd be in position to take them out before they knew what hit them.

"How you holding out, Shipwreck? You should be up top with Torpedo and Deep Six," Blowtorch asked.

"I'm ok; I wasn't beat as bad as the others." He looked solemn. "Just the luck of the draw, I guess," he tried to convince himself, but didn't feel much better. Sure, he was banged up still… but so was everyone. Except for maybe Cover Girl and Low-Light.

Silence had past for a few moments and the infantry men kept moving.

"…they should have never seen us coming…" Shipwreck muttered. Under his breath, and to himself. Blowtorch looked at him, but didn't say a word. He figured under Ship's mental state and with everything he endured he'd tell the story if and when he was ready. But he'd be there to listen.

"We took all the precautions but still tripped some kind of alarm. We're talking a fifth generation defensive system, something extremely advanced. The kind only the U.S. has. Someone's up to something in Borovia… someone with money, and with advanced technology.

While ahead of the group, Snake-Eyes couldn't help but overhear their conversation._ Something is clearly not right. No way these are Borovians. They must have outside help._

XXXXX

Inside the Flagg, Clutch tried to unlock the newfound data Snake-Eyes had recovered from The Wraith during their earlier battle. "Most of our equipment's damaged, except for the radio and a few navigational systems. Our computer expert…" Clutch couldn't even say Flash's name, but choked out his intent, "…well, we have no computer experts here… and you guys are asking me, the grease monkey, to open up the data on this thing? Oh, and did I mention this tank smells like ass from all this man-sweat?"

Cover Girl piped up, "No, it just smells that way because of _you_. And it's more like boy-sweat."

Clutch snickered, for the first time since combat had started. "Touché. Keep driving, tank girl. Know your role." Without turning around or even batting an eyelash, Cover Girl flipped him the bird.

Looking for other options…truly not happy about figuring out a way to download the data to an intermittently working computer, Clutch asked, "Since we're not authorized to reach Sierra Team directly, can't we just break radio silence and send this to that hottie Firewall…" and turning to Cover Girl, whispered, "who, by the way, is about half your age…"

Steeler replied before Cover Girl could get a shot in… she had turned around from the driver's seat, ready to rip Clutch's head off, mouth already open and ready to retaliate. "Not a good idea. With all the surprises the bad guys have had, no way I want to send out a signal that they could possibly intercept and locate our position. Not to mention we could compromise _their _position as well. We'll notify Firewall once our plane launches and have her relay to Sierra Team, on time and as scheduled."

"Clutch is a bit slow, even compared to our other team members…isn't there anyone else that can figure that stuff out?" Cover Girl asked Steeler calmly, becoming less restless after Clutch had riled her up.

Steeler laughed. "Maybe he is, but with his maintenance skills… even if he's not an electrical engineer, he's the best thing we got. Let me know when you get something, Clutch. Just take it easy, though; I'm no doctor, but fairly certain you have a slight concussion. And that's best case scenario; it could be much worse than that so _don't overdo it_."

Cover Girl knew she shouldn't say it, but couldn't help herself. "Maybe the concussion actually did him some good; you can't hurt what you don't have..."

The banter between the two went back and forth. Steeler smiled. Not because he was enjoying comedy hour, but because it was a much needed distraction for the team. _Good. They're focusing on each other, which means they're also focusing on the mission. I've seen too many people lock up from having lost friends in combat. They…well, __we__, have been through a lot. Just don't pass out on me Clutch… or worse_.

Clutch wasn't stupid; he knew how bad head wounds were. He had planned on replying to Steeler while still working on repairing the damaged computer, but his left hand suddenly started shaking. It didn't hurt, but it threw him off. He was a bit puzzled and unsure why it was doing that. After a few moments, he grabbed it with his right hand, trying to get it to settle down. Taking a few breaths, it stopped shaking. Turning to look at Cover Girl, and then at Steeler, neither of them noticed. Barbecue and Gung-Ho were resting up and heavily sedated, so they didn't notice either. Clutch took a deep breath. He was perplexed but shrugged it off and went back to fixing the onboard systems and search for a way to download the data.


	30. Ch 30: Arise the Serpent

**CHAPTER THIRTY: ARISE THE SERPENT**

Just before dawn, the team arrived at the rendezvous point. _Ahead of schedule; good,_ Snake-Eyes thought. Steeler had sent out the coded message and it was only a matter of time before the C-130 made an assault landing to retrieve the crew. _This should be easier than last time – since there are no jumpers, all they have to do is fly low… down by the ocean waves right under their radar, and land on this old abandoned dirt strip. We load up, turn around, and then we'll be home free. I just hope Scarlett and their team had better luck than we did._

Snake-Eyes had been keeping an eye out for the last several hours, making sure they weren't being followed. But he didn't have to use his eyes to hear the low dull roar of the Herc's propeller engines…_ "The sound of freedom", _he thought to himself. What they called it back in the desert. It was always good to hear one of those; it meant air support, whether in the form of cargo, paratroops, or even firepower from an AC-130 gunship.

Descending out of the sky, slowly getting larger and larger the closer it came, the C-130 dove down towards the short dirt runway at an impossibly steep angle in preparation for the assault strip landing. The crew made it look easy; the touch down was perfect and the large props kicked up a giant cloud of dust behind it. Cover Girl pushed up the throttles rolling The Flagg forward and into position behind the Herc as it came to a stop. Once they could get the Flag loaded up and on board they'd be ready to fly out of Borovia.

Several U.S. Air Force soldiers stepped out of the back of the aircraft as the ramp lowered. Most of them fanned out behind the plane even while the engines were still running. Two of the airmen had the privilege of riding a motorcycle each, useful for fast movement in this particular defensive stand. They were quick; no sooner did the cargo door open as they swarmed out of the aircraft in a defensive posture, fully prepared to cover the classified team and the Flagg should a firefight break out, or in case they were followed. A few combat medics hustled out of the plane behind the armed guards, immediately moving forward to help the wounded and get them on board.

"Steeler, I did it! We're in. Check this data out…" Clutch had finally been able to decrypt and open the files that The Wraith had on him, even as the tank rolled up on the back of the ramp.

"You're just finding this out now? Cutting it a bit closer, aren't we," Steeler said – his focus was on ensuring Cover Girl safely drove the tank into the belly of the aircraft, but this new discovery of information presented an internal conflict. "Cover Girl, careful… I need to see what Clutch found."

"Hey boss, woman driver… maybe you should watch her instead? Make sure she doesn't put a hole in the C-130 with the Flagg" Clutch couldn't help himself with his jab at Cover Girl.

"OUCH!" Clutch let out as a large object smacked the side of his shoulder - a large, hard object.

Tussling her hair, now that her own helmet was free, Cover Girl let her blonde hair flow down freely. She figured now that they were safely aboard, she didn't have much need for it. "Woman driver, huh?" she snickered at him. "Well, looks like I can drive a tank with one hand up the ramp of a C-130… _and_ throw a helmet with my free hand. All at the same time!"

_That really hurt,_ he thought, rubbing his shoulder. _This chick is tougher than I thought._

"Oh, no…" Unlike Clutch, Steeler wasn't distracted, but instead was fully concentrated on reading the information that The Wraith had.

He saw the name again. The name of evil... the one that had finally surfaced only recently... the name of…

Cobra.

Steeler slammed his fist on the side wall of the tank. _I should have known they were up to this. That explains the resistance we encountered. _

Sensing Steelers worry, Clutch knew something bad was going on. He took a look at the screen.

Reading along with the classified documents as he scrolled down, Steeler mouthed along, "…Cobra agent, code name: *classified*, will infiltrate the United States and carry out Operation Fractured Eagle. Utilizing our holographic technology suit, his disguise will allow him to blend in. Expect his departure point from Urbak. No further information will be transmitted outside of need-to-know access. Scalpel, out."

_Scalpel? Who the freak is that... and the other agent. Name is classified... who are these terrorists?_

"Oh shit. Steeler, this…" Clutch didn't have to say anymore – Steeler felt the same way.

"Son of a b… Urbak. That's where the others are. We need to warn them."

"On it, boss," Clutch said as he immediately went to the radios to get a hold of Sierra Team. After sending out a few radio calls, they received no reply. "Steeler, this isn't good. Looks like the signals not even getting through. I think they might be jammed - looks like it's on their end, not ours."

Steeler cursed. He was trying to think of options of how to warn Sierra Team without radio.

"We could have the pilots divert and get close," Cover Girl added, now that the tank was stopped and aboard the Herc.

"That won't work. Assuming they have extra gas to fly down that way, which they probably don't, they couldn't possibly fly right above ocean waves the entire way without eventually getting seen by a coastal patrol or enemy radar. We have to get to Urbak, but can't get there fast enough."

"Yea, but Steeler, for all we know the infiltrator could have already left the city" Clutch replied.

"Maybe, but we have to do something. Come on, guys, let's put our heads together…"

Something outside the tank garnered the attention of the tank crew. A shouting sound, followed by a cursing sound, followed by a loud revving engine. Steeler and Clutch looked at each other. Steeler was the first to pop his head out of the tank to see what was going on.

The scene was surreal. One of the motorcycle riders was… dismounted. On his back and on the ground. Yelling at the man who had just ripped off his motorcycle. A man who just sped down the ramp of the C-130… peeling out, riding full speed back into the heartland of Borovia, from where they had just been. A man in black, with a sword strapped on his back… screaming down the road on his steel horse and hunched down against the gas tank as his speedometer accelerated at an incredible rate…

_Looks like Snake-Eyes over heard me,_ Steeler thought, shaking his head. "Well, I guess I'd be more worried if it were anyone else." Looking at Clutch, Steeler gave out a quiet laugh and said, "He's got a long drive ahead of him though."

_Wow, he looks badass on that thing,_ Clutch thought. _Does he _try_ to or is it just natural? Maybe they'll let me have the other motorcycle and give me a chance to catch up - just need to talk Steeler into it._

_Then maybe I'll be a badass, too._


	31. Ch 31: Impostor

**CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: IMPOSTOR**

The needle was pegged out at 140 miles per hour; the engine roared near redline as the pistons fired away and the tires kicked up a thick dust cloud as the motorcycle sped along the barren dirt highway. _At least most of this highway stretch is a straightaway,_ Snake-Eyes thought, cruising on the… not stolen, but "acquired" U.S. military issue motorcycle. The Flagg was too slow to do the job so he was forced to improvise.

Especially when members of his team were at risk. Snake-Eyes knew that he _had_ to get to Sierra Team as soon as possible and let them know there was an infiltrator. Not only did he have to be stopped, but his very presence in the same city as Sierra Team threatened their mission.

_Shana… Scarlett… _he couldn't help but think about her as he throttled the gas, desperate to get to her… and her team, as soon as possible. _An infiltrator. A Cobra agent. This changes things. How was our Intel unable to pick up on this earlier? _Snake-Eyes knew that it would only take one person to wipe out an unsuspecting group. And according to Jinx, the group consisted of three rookies and only one veteran – not to mention a veteran who had a small role to play on this particular mission. _Ripcord, you'd better be looking after them, or so help me, I'll kill you…_

Pulling out his secure GPS with the coordinates of Dr. Walkers mansion he downloaded, thanks to information from Jinx, Snake-Eyes figured that was the first place to start before he went directly to Walker Innovations. He'd reach the mansion just before Urbak since it was on the outskirts of town. Snake-Eyes knew that he'd be losing time by making the stop, but it'd be worth it if he could find out more information about this Cobra agent. After all, getting to Urbak was only half the problem. The other half was finding the infiltrator.

The sun had begun to rise over the horizon by the time Snake-Eyes arrived at the mansion. The sheer size of the mansion, as well as the land it sat upon, was remarkable. Unlike the rest of the desolate and war-torn Borovia, at least from what Snake-Eyes had seen anyway, this place was untouched by battle and as green as the forest up by his cabin in the Sierra Mountains. _Impressive. This Dr. Walker must have a lot of money to maintain the landscape. And a lot of pull to keep it protected during the civil wars._

Snake wasn't worried about the mansion being fenced in; climbing a wall was simple enough. However, the true issue was the cameras along the fence line. Judging by the number of surveillance equipment surrounding the mansion, security would be challenging to navigate and defeat. Invisible laser sensors, thermal detectors… This would take some work to get in and, worse yet, take up a lot of precious time.

He had pulled off to the side of the road, still sitting on his bike with one leg on the ground, carefully scanning along the fence line as his motorcycle idled with a low rumble. No more had he begun to dismount his iron horse as the mansion gates began to slowly open. An all-black Cadillac SUV with dark tinted windows pulled out of the front gates, turning down the road in the opposite direction of where Snake had tucked away. Snake-Eyes already had the cover of a large shrub, so he knew he wouldn't be seen; ducking down over the handlebars, he pulled out a pair of binoculars. Despite the dark tint to the windows, he could just barely make out the driver.

_Woman driver, judging by her shoulder-length hair. Local males in this country rarely have long hair like that. Single occupancy... Strange. A female driver in a nice vehicle like that in a male-dominated society like Borovia; I wasn't expecting that. She must be either really powerful, or a man in disguise. Either way, time to make her acquaintance._

Snake-Eyes crouched down low on the bike, cautiously pulling back onto the road.

XXXXX

_She's seen me,_ he thought to himself. He had been tailing her at an average pace for several miles, but without warning the black car sped up. _Not like I had much cover from the sunlight on this flat stretch of road, and couldn't exactly blend in with other vehicles since we're the only two on the road. _He knew it was inevitable_._ Twisting the throttle and leaning down against the gas tank, he accelerated to match her speed, taking off like a rocket. _If I have to shoot her tires out, at least there won't be anyone around here within miles to witness it. _

Snake-Eyes slowly reached for the twenty-two strapped to his hip. Just as his fingers wrapped around the grip of the weapon, the black car slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road, coming to a stop. Snake released his grip, leaving his Berretta in its holster.

_This could get interesting,_ Snake thought, analyzing the situation. Pulling over behind her and towards the right side of her vehicle, intentionally in her blind spot, Snake-Eyes kicked the kickstand and dismounted the motorcycle cautiously, swinging his leg back and over, and never taking his eyes off of the driver. Snake pulled out his M-16 and cautiously moved forward to the vehicle.

The driver stepped out of the black vehicle, her hands in the air.

_Very pretty,_ Snake-Eyes thought, as the blond-haired lady walked slowly but deliberately towards him. _Definitely not Borovian. _

The lady spoke, with a foreign accent. _Russian? No…Czech… _She spoke to him with confidence; she even had a slight smile as her lip barely curved upward. Even as his weapon was fully trained on her... squarely focused on her chest, she did not appear to be afraid of him. "They told me you were coming. I wasn't sure it was you until you chased after me. Your General Hawk notified me. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Vorona."

Snake-Eyes began to think about what she said, still pointing his weapon at her. _Steeler couldn't contact Sierra Team due to their mission risk, but I bet he had Firewall patch him through to Hawk. And of course with one phone call from Hawk… who knows what kind of International agents he'd be able to get a hold of. I'll buy that. But first let's see what she has to say before I trust her._

Snake-Eyes lowered his weapon.

XXXXX

_I can't believe this. _A stunned Snake-Eyes held up the tailgate of the SUV with one hand, shaking his head as he looked in the back. He turned to Vorona in disbelief, with his hands halfway raised, as if to say, "What happened?"

He noticed that her face was calm. To the average person, she would appear to be emotionless. But Snake-Eyes knew better. With a closer look, he could tell her eyes were almost a bit watery; she didn't shed a tear, but it seemed as if she was on the verge.

_More death. It follows me wherever I go. It looks like his death affected her; she must have known him somehow. Probably worked with him on the job._

Vorona took her time responding to Snake-Eyes; the truth was it was hard for anyone to see a dead body. Especially when breaking the news to a friend of the victim… someone who knew the deceased. Even if only briefly.

Just because the movies always portrayed FBI, CIA, and especially KGB agents as emotionless stone soldiers when anyone was killed – even one of their own – it didn't mean that the real world was that way. Sure, there were some that were ice cold, and the death of others had no affect on them. But that was rarely the case, and normally reserved only for the seriously traumatized or the psychotic. Yet here was this American soldier who she had only seen briefly… not even one of her own countrymen. But he knew it was hard for her to accept his death nonetheless… especially knowing he was fighting for a good cause, and that his killer was still out there.

And Vorona _loved _Hollywood movies… well, any decently made American flick, or even B-movies or independent film… but she knew that was the one thing that every good screenwriter always screwed up.

"I didn't know until after your team had left. I wanted to warn them, so I got in the car and headed for Urbak. Your General Hawk said you would catch up with me if I left when I did, that you had acquired a motorcycle." Vorona explained.

"His throat…" she said quietly, showing where the knife had slit it clean open.

Snake-Eyes could tell – practically feel – his heart weighing heavy. He reached down and took his dog tags off of the body.

RIPCORD

299-00-2319

CHRISTIAN

AB POSITIVE

Snake-Eyes reached down towards Ripcord with his hand, gently closing his eyelids over his empty blue eyes.

"He must have been sitting in the limo when he was killed. I didn't find his body until your Sierra Team left. I found his body hidden in some of the bushes by the mansion… dumped quickly but carelessly. But…" Vorona said, struggling how to phrase that last part, not because of her limited English skills but because of how crazy it was, what she was going to say. "But…I swear to you I am not insane and what I am about to tell you is the truth. I saw all _four_ of them leave, in two separate vehicles. Jinx and Mayday in one, and in the other… Scarlett and Ripcord. Yes, Ripcord. I _saw _him. But that cannot be…"

If anyone could have seen underneath Snake-Eyes mask, they would have seen the blood drain away instantaneously and turning his face pale-white. _Shana! _For the first time since she had joined the team, Snake-Eyes felt… helpless. Utterly, completely helpless. Even more than when The Wraith had him pinned down in their sword duel. Even if The Wraith had struck him down, Snake-Eyes knew that he could have said he fought back as hard as he could have despite the outcome of the battle.

But this was different.

It was more than a helpless feeling; he was… he was something he hadn't been since his younger days during the beginning of Operation Enduring Freedom. He was…

Scared.

Not for himself, of course, but for Scarlett. _Shana, I _told_ you not to join the team. _All he could picture in his head were visions of the impostor cutting Shana's throat open, just like they did to Ripcord. The swirling darkness in his head grappled against his mind and his soul, and all he could see was an image of her dead, bleeding out on the floor.

Taking a deep breath, attempting to relax his muscles and focus on an inner calmness, he did the best he could to try and clear those images. To his astonishment, it wasn't working too well. It didn't completely clear his mind like it normally did. It was as if the residue of every horrific thing that the Cobra agent could do to Shana lingered somewhere in the back of his mind and just wouldn't go away, as if it were an invisible poison cutting deep within his veins.

Snake-Eyes quickly tucked Ripcord's dog tags in one of his pockets, while taking one last look at the fallen soldier, laying a hand upon his shoulder. _I'm so sorry, William. I'd take you back with me if I could. Hopefully Vorona can have your body sent back to us, once this entire thing is over. But Scarlett… and the others…_ He raised his arm up, saluting Ripcord. But as his arm slowly lowered, he lamented the fact this would be the last time he'd ever see him.

Refocusing on the present moment, Snake-Eyes knew what he had to do. With a quick nod to Vorona, Snake-Eyes quickly got back on his motorcycle.

"I'm right behind you," Vorona told him, getting into her vehicle. "I might not be able to keep up with your motorcycle, but I'll get there, too. I'm not about to let those girls down. My mission can wait a short while if it must, but I know yours is in motion and on the brink of failure. Besides, your mission failure could have effects not just on your own country, but on mine as well. Disaster on a global level."

Snake-Eyes nodded and quickly sped off. Within moments, he was a speck in the horizon by the time Vorona so much as turned the key in the ignition. _The infiltrator… he's riding with Shana. He's sitting right next to her, as an impostor, pretending to be Ripcord. Looking like Ripcord. __I have to stop him… no matter what the cost._ Intensity surged throughout the rider in black, determined to warn Scarlett and the others of the truth… warn them about the man that they _thought _was Ripcord.

_Impostor. You'll pay for this._

_I have to see her again… alive. I _need_ to. I… _Snake-Eyes, full speed on his motorcycle down the road once again, wasn't sure how he would react if he was fortunate enough to see her again, and alive. He had to see her alive again, and prayed silently that he would get that chance. He didn't pray as often as he should, and he knew that… but he prayed to God as hard as he could. He was desperate to see her, alive.

He knew he'd either throttle her for joining the team in the first place and getting herself carelessly thrown into such a dangerous situation…

Or he'd kiss her.

Maybe both.


	32. Ch 32: The Search for Dr Bennett

**CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: SEARCHING FOR DR. BENNETT**

Walker Innovations was now well within eyesight. The tall concrete building was taller than any of the other crumbling buildings in the district and the only one illuminated – it easily stood out in the dark night. So far, so good; the team remained undetected. They pulled both vehicles into a small alleyway a few buildings away but parked them in position for a quick retreat if necessary. All four soldiers - Jinx, Mayday, Scarlett, and Ripcord stepped out of their vehicles, fully armed and ready for anything.

Ripcord stepped out of the vehicle, rolling his head side to side while working the kinks out of his neck from the long drive. Scarlett unstrapped her crossbow from her leg, loading two arrows – one for each crossbow deck. Although the others harassed her for carrying it around, she still preferred it over her M-16 assault rifle. She had her rifle with her, just in case she needed serious firepower, but... it wasn't anything she planned on using. She'd take her crossbow any day over a rifle. If there was one thing she had learned from Snake-Eyes, it was that quiet precision weaponry was the way to go over loud attention-getting firearms. Especially on a mission like this where stealth was everything.

Mayday and Jinx, however, preferred the traditional American made assault rifle, although Jinx also had a long, thin sword strapped to her back. Scarlett raised her eyebrow but also had a slight smile; she noted how Jinx looked something like a female Snake-Eyes in her black outfit, albeit without the mask.

Ripcord carried most of the gear; on his back was a large but standard black military issue rucksack. In his hands he held his M-16; his finger rested lightly on the trigger. Scarlett noticed he had just the slightest smile on his face… a testament to his confidence. Or cockiness; she wasn't sure which.

Team Sierras pre-coordinated plan was set and they were ready to execute.

Sneaking up to the building as quickly and as silently as they could, they remained just out of the vision of one of the buildings security cameras – which, in particular, swept the area back and forth on a timing relay. The blueprints they had scanned earlier in Dr. Walkers office had proved vital; apparently the building had a blind spot. Fully aware of this, the team gathered at the base of the building and just out of the cameras view, ready to climb up and into the second story window. Ripcord stood at the base, slinging his rifle over his shoulder, holding his hands together in front of him for Mayday to step on so he could lift her up to the window. It took less than ten seconds for her to fiddle with the window and get it open; Mayday shimmied through the small opening like a slippery, graceful minx.

Jinx went next. As Ripcord held his hands for her, she actually leaped up _over_ him, grabbing the ledge and hoisting herself up and through the window in a flash, which made Mayday seem a lot slower than she actually was.

_Show-off,_ Scarlett thought, getting ready to go through the window herself.

Scarlett helped Ripcord up through the window as Mayday and Jinx secured the room. The room resembled something of a storage room; there was no enemy presence. Shelves and boxes littered the messy room in no particular order; torn cardboard boxes full of decade's worth of paperwork predominantly filled up the area. Scarlett couldn't help but wonder who on Earth could actually have cataloged all the junk in the room. _Geez, get a computer people. Talk about a serious lack of organization. This wouldn't be a job __I'd want, that's for sure. Then again, I've had some pretty bad jobs before, but still…_

Ripcord sorted through some of the boxes randomly while Scarlett performed a broader search around the room; both were attempting to find anything useful but came up empty. Mayday took a knee in front of the door; the team knew that, according to the blueprints, a hallway lay on the other side. She carefully inspected the door for any type of trap or electronic warning systems.

Mayday motioned to the team and signaled that the door was unlocked. She slowly opened it, giving Jinx a moment to peer through and spring on any unsuspecting opponent on the other side of the door. Fortunately it opened up into a wide and empty hallway. Jinx gave the "all clear" sign and stepped out. Multiple doors lined the corridor on each side, but based on the blueprints they had a good idea where Dr. Bennett was being held. He would be held in the room that appeared to have the largest working space for equipment and building material, as well as the most secure and protected room… both inside and out. The four invaders moved swiftly but cautiously down the hallway and to the door they suspected led to the scientists working area.

Turning to Jinx and the others, Mayday signaled that it was also unlocked, but that she heard voices on the other side. Jinx took position by the door with her assault rifle drawn, in case someone on the other side might open the door prematurely. Ripcord had his back to the women, his rifle was aimed down the hall and he appeared intent on making sure no one would sneak up on them from behind.

Mayday ducked down, sliding a miniature snake camera underneath the door. Looking at the live feed on a camera smaller than her palm, she held up two fingers and mouthed "guards". She then held up six fingers and mouthed "civilians". Scarlett knew these were the civilians they were looking for. Mayday quietly and carefully opened the door just a crack while Scarlett and Jinx aimed their weapons through the shallow opening, giving them a small and narrow visual angle inside the other room.

Scarlett noticed that the room was very large - and well guarded. There were three isles in the room made up from two long rows of computer desks with multiple consoles stretching across; the far shelf had all kinds of parts and equipment from wall to wall. It definitely had the look of a scientist's or an engineer's laboratory.

There were also two guards with machine guns well within eyesight – the ones that Mayday mentioned. Several other men wearing long white lab coats walked back and forth across their narrow angle of vision. Jinx must have sensed it too, Scarlett thought. Shana noticed just a small – almost insignificant – shudder from Jinx out of the corner of her eye. Confirming Scarlett's suspicions, Jinx slowly put away her rifle and pulled out her sword, gripping it carefully with two hands and settling into a stance… a stance Scarlett often saw Snake-Eyes do before he was ready to run full-speed at a target. Scarlett's eyes widened. _This is it! One of these men has to be Dr. Bennett!_

Mayday held her breath, nodding to Scarlett and Jinx, waiting for their confirmation. They both nodded.

Mayday understood what they meant; they were ready. She nodded acknowledgement to the others and held up her fingers... three fingers to be exact. Then counting down, two fingers remained. Then one.

Mayday yanked the door open allowing Scarlett and Jinx to move quickly in the room and take up strategic positions in an effort to quietly incapacitate the two guards before they knew what hit them.

Scarlett fired her crossbow into the guard that stood furthest away – he fell before he knew what hit him. Like a flash of lightning, Jinx lurched forward... timed with Scarlett's trigger finger, and ran her sword through the nearest guard.

There were about seven white coats in the lab; each and every one had been startled and, frozen in their tracks, dropped their paperwork.

With an urgent but hushed whisper, Scarlett waived for the scientists to head out the door they just came through, saying "Let's go, let's go! We're Americans, we're getting you guys out of here and to safety..."

Scarlett never had a chance to finish that statement; six of the scientists had pulled out heavy assault rifles hidden underneath their coats.

"Wha... a trap?" Jinx whispered, staring at them like a deer caught in the headlights.

Pointing their weapons at Scarlett and Jinx, they shouted in a broken English, "Drop your weapons! Drop your weapons!"

Scarlett saw her life flash right before her eyes. _I can't believe how stupid..._ dropping her crossbow, she raised her hands in the air. Jinx, knowing they couldn't fight the six-to-two odds, also dropped her sword and surrendered. Scarlett turned to Mayday with wide open eyes, as if she could telepathically communicate _Run, Mayday! _Even though Mayday was still armed and the armed men hadn't seen her, it wasn't likely that she could get Scarlett and Jinx freed up. Murmuring a reluctant sigh of defeat, Scarlett put her hands behind her head.

Mayday already knew that they were in deep trouble even though she hadn't been seen. She backed out, getting ready to head down the hall and get Ripcord.

But as she turned and started to sprint down the hallway, she ran right into Ripcords chest. With tremendous force, Ripcord shoved Mayday into the room. She tumbled off balance from the force of his shove; her gun flew from her hand, landing across the room, as she slid across the floor. Ripcord pulled out a nine millimeter and pointed it at Mayday as she sat sprawled out on the floor.

Behind Ripcord, a large soldier – over seven feet tall with muscles larger than most men that were on steroids had – stepped into the room with an AR-15 pointed at the three captured women. As if that wasn't enough, the gigantic man had a minigun strapped to his back as if it were a backpack – and there was nothing mini about it.

Mayday, having landed between Jinx and Scarlett, slowly started to get up. The three women were stunned… absolutely stunned. Here was one of their own with a weapon trained on them… a traitor.

Jinx regretted that she dropped her sword; if she had known that one of their own was about to turn on them, she would have charged him and run him through before the bullets could have reached her. Besides, Borovians weren't known for keeping prisoners alive in the long run, so she'd be more than willing to give up her life if it meant taking him down. "Ripcord, you bastard!"

Ripcord laughed. "Ripcord is dead. Not figuratively; literally. I killed him back at the mansion and assumed his role. You ladies really made it easy for me to infiltrate your little group; I honestly thought it would be harder. Your military was counting on a young group of rookies to save the day? How America remains the superpower that it is is beyond me." Ripcords face... at least the man who was pretending to be Ripcord, flickered with a blue flash, as if it was some kind of hologram. "Of course your death is imminent, but that does not grant you permission to see my true face."

All three women were shocked, and felt sickened at his revelation – he definitely wasn't Ripcord, and he probably wasn't lying about killing him, either.

That infuriated Scarlett. "I'll kill you, you son of a bitch!" Like the sword of Jinx, Scarlett's crossbow had also been dropped to the ground. Being unarmed, her threat meant little to him.

The Impostor smiled, crossing his arms and tapping on the side of his nine-mil with his finger. "Scarlett, I don't think you'll get that chance. It's going to be a shame, really... killing you. I thought we were on to something, really. I thought I almost blew my cover when I was staring at your legs," he said coolly, intentionally fixing his eyes on her legs with his head cock to the side. "I have to admit, I liked them better when you were in your dress."

It made Scarlett angry, thinking that the entire ride up to Walker Innovations... the drive that took hours and hours, that it wasn't Ripcord sitting next to her but instead it was this puke. And it made her even angrier that she actually thought that he seemed charming at the time, even though she knew it was nothing more than an act. She'd never be able to forgive herself, remembering how she allowed herself to be so laid back around him, not realizing he was a cold blooded killer the entire time. How did she miss it? All she could think of was clawing his eyes out. Better yet, taking one of her bolts and running it through his face.

Scarlett did notice that all of the "scientists" save for one had long since dropped or opened their lab coats, revealing black body armor underneath. They looked like the other guards.

Like Jinx had observed, it had all been a trap; a set-up. _That asshole must have contacted them, giving up our position long before we even arrived._ Scarlett did notice, though, that one man still had his coat on... and looked _terrified._

_Dr. Bennett? That has to be him._

The Impostor, done with his flirting for the time being, walked up to the doctor. "Boa," he said to the large muscular soldier, "Watch them. You and you," he told two of the guards, who still hadn't bothered to remove their white laboratory coat disguises, "Guard the hall. The building is already on alert, but I have to talk to our good Doctor Bennett for a moment."

Speaking with confidence as he removed his rucksack, the Impostor said, "Doctor, I am told you recently finished the E-bomb. Would you be so kind as to place it within here, please? I have a tight schedule, and there is an American aircraft carrier I need to catch."


	33. Ch 33: Face of Evil

**CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: TRUE FACE OF EVIL**

_That bastard is planning on retaining his disguise and detonating the bomb when the John F. Kennedy heads back to the states! Everyone will think that terrorist is one of us! _Scarlett's heart sunk; she had felt helpless before in the past, but never quite like this. Despite all of her training and everything she had been through to get to this point, she found herself unarmed and helpless. Even her martial arts couldn't stand up against multiple firearms.

The huge man… Boa, from what the Impostor called him, picked up the E-bomb as if it was as light as a feather. With one hand, he stuffed it carefully in the Impostors rucksack; the bomb fit so tightly that he almost accidentally ripped the bag open with his uncanny strength before it zipped up all the way. Despite the grunts and groans and almost giving in to the impulse of ripping the bag open in a fit of rage, Boa's patience was rewarded. Content with his accomplishment he handed the rucksack to the Impostor.

A wicked smile surfaced on the Impostor as he spoke to Dr. Bennett. Pointing the end of his nine-millimeter between his eyes, the Impostor told him, "And, doctor? There is no need to travel with us now that we have the bomb. Still, I'll keep you alive until our other scientists… our _loyal _scientists, are able to verify you didn't sabotage this bomb. Oh, don't worry, I _do_ trust your handiwork with this bomb; I imagine our recent threats against your family members ensured your honest work. But you never can be too careful... there's nothing worse than a self righteous martyr." The Impostor sneered.

Scarlett couldn't believe what she was hearing... it was like a nightmare come true. Masquerading as Ripcord had given him access to an incredible amount of classified information which made him a threat like no other. He already knew about the naval aircraft carrier and how it was diverted from its original tasking from CENTCOM in order to head straight for the Borovian coast. He probably even knew the Secretary of Defense specifically ordered the captain of the J.F.K. to give Sierra Team a ride home. This was significant, given that the J.F.K. was already in the Mediterranean. The fact that Hawk had been able to pull strings to make this happen… well, it was nothing short of incredible.

But now, it seemed like the Impostor was fully prepared to stroll right aboard the carrier with the E-bomb… and while detonating it on the carrier would be catastrophic, he would most likely detonate it when they reached the states.

_If I can somehow destroy his mask…_ Her mind was forming a plan of action.

_Even if they gun me down, I can stop him from getting on the carrier,_ Scarlett thought. _Disable his helmet, and he won't look like Ripcord. The Navy will have to verify each and every member that boards… including visual identification. _Looking at the Impostors helmet through narrow but determined eyes, Scarlett knew she had to find a way to destroy it… but it was going to be tough.

Scarlett, still at gunpoint with hands behind her head, slowly slid her right hand closer to her left glove. She moved slowly, but as each second passed it felt like a minute. Scarlett _wanted _to pull out the throwing star with lightning speed, but she knew she'd be gunned down in a heartbeat. She needed patience. The kind of patience that Snake-Eyes taught her back at his cabin up in the mountains. Patience the stubborn redhead knew she had, but didn't often use. Calmly she controlled her breathing, taking longer breaths. She relaxed her chest. Her fingers slowly reached into her glove…

_Got it. _With a little sleight of hand, she pulled out a ninja star with her right forefinger and thumb. Carefully and slowly. It felt like every single guard was looking at her, and on to her plan. Yet none of them reacted. _They haven't noticed me yet… settle down, Shana. Relax._

The Impostor, preoccupied with the doctor, had his back to Scarlett. _Dammit, I can't get a head shot. And it probably won't pierce your body armor, so I can't get a clean kill. _She had the shuriken palmed in her right hand. _All right, you bastard._ _If I can't throw this at your face, I'll cripple your helmet. _She took a deep breath, attempting to calm her nerves as if she was beginning a tournament in front of a crowd of thousands. _Focus, Shana, just like Snake showed you. Throw it straight and true… keep that extra twist out… just throw it and let your training and instinct take over._

It happened so fast. Before she knew it, the throwing star had left her hand and embedded itself deep inside the Impostors helmet… sparks shot out in a brilliant display of blue, red, and orange. She let out a quiet _"Yes"_ in her head, quite triumphantly, fully aware that her shuriken destroyed the circuitry in his helmet and thereby ruining his holographic powers.

The Impostor was completely caught off guard. He immediately staggered, off balance from the force of the throw and knocked off balance. He screamed in pain as the flesh on his face singed; as quickly as he could he reached up to pull his broken helmet off and threw it to the floor. The helmet bounced a few times and the accompanying sparks lit a small fire within.

His face was no longer that of Ripcords… but his own, true face. A face with burned, charcoal black flesh around his eyes. It was unfortunate he wasn't permanently blinded.

But it was a face that Scarlett would recognize if she ever saw it again. One that she would remember for the rest of her life, as it burned into her soul… the face of the man that killed one of her own teammates.

The other guards were initially focused on the Impostor and slow to react. Scarlett had thrown her throwing star so quickly that half of them didn't even realize what had happened.

While severely outnumbered, Scarlett had the upper hand and advantage of surprise, if only for a full second. In that short period of time, her mood quickly changed from a lively defiance and a quick triumphant celebration to realizing that her doom was inevitable and quickly upon her if she didn't act fast.

The guards had turned their weapons to Scarlett, one by one, realizing she was the one responsible for her attack on the Impostor. _They're going to kill me… this is really it… _There was no getting out of this one; no barriers to hide behind and no way to take all of the guards out.

_But at least I'll go down fighting and take as many as I can with me… _She pulled out a few more throwing stars and prepared to throw them at the nearest guards, but even so she couldn't help but flinch, expecting the bullets to rain down any second.

One of the guards standing in the doorway screamed out sharply before she had thrown another shuriken – enough to startle her and bring her back to reality, even though the scream only lasted for a split second and ended just as sudden.

Almost everyone in the room had looked over to see what had happened. There in the doorway were two dead guards – one decapitated, and the other one laying in a pool of his own blood – and standing up in between them was a large man dressed all in black, holding a sword in one hand and an automatic weapon in the other.

_Snake-Eyes!_ He was here! But how did he find her? He was supposed to be on the other side of Borovia. At least that was what General Hawk had said the orders were…

Before anyone could react, Snake-Eyes opened fire, dropping another one of the guards in the room and grazing another in the shoulder. All of the guards turned to fire back at Snake-Eyes, who ducked out of the door way and behind the wall.

The Impostor had already grabbed the rucksack and ducked behind some of the computer consoles… just out of Scarlett's sight. Scarlett turned to the Impostor but knew she had missed her chance at him, so instead she threw her ninja star at one of the gunmen trying to nail Snake-Eyes. The star flew from her hand with lightning speed and landed right in the center of his chest. The force was incredible – she threw it so hard that it buried itself deep within, breaking through bone causing an immediate downpour of blood.

Mayday and Jinx had also taken this opportunity to fight back against the distracted gunmen. Mayday leaped horizontally across the room to grab the gun that fell from her grasp when the Impostor shoved her in the room. She picked it up as fast as she could; while rolling on her left side she took careful but quick aim in her awkward position and fired at the guards. Staring down her guard site she pulled the trigger and hit a guard with two in the chest. She put another two rounds in another guard… one in the chest and one in the shoulder.

Jinx reacted with a swift gracefulness that seemed like a blur. With her left foot, she immediately kicked up her sword to her right hand and charged forward. By the time the soldier turned to face Jinx, the diagonal slash from her sword had not only blocked his gun from a point blank shot at her, but it sliced across his chest and abdomen.

Boa and the other guards fought back unleashing an onslaught of bullets; Boa was intentionally protecting the Impostor, giving him a chance to escape from the far door across the room. Jinx had no cover; she held up the body of the slain guard, using him as a shield from the ensuing gunfire. Mayday ducked behind one of the computer consoles, using the artificial wall as cover while returning fire. It wasn't enough to stop bullets, but it was enough to mask her presence… at least for the moment. Scarlett barely had time to grab her crossbow, and certainly didn't have chance to use it; she dove in right behind Mayday, but still focused on finding the Impostor. Noticing his retreat, she laid low on the ground, crawling underneath the maze of computer desks and working her way to the back door.

Gunfire erupted in the hallway. It sounded like Snake-Eyes had his hands full with some of the others in the building.

Scarlett had made it to the opposite door; she had successfully managed to sneak behind the enemies. She wasn't able to stand up, however; that would have put her in the firing path of any stray bullets that Mayday might have had. She had a burning desire to help Mayday and Jinx… but, she knew that she had to stop the Impostor from getting away… especially with the E-bomb.

It was one of the toughest decisions of her life, but she had no choice but to leave Jinx and Mayday. Scarlett crawled through the door and into a hallway; just in time to see the Impostor round a corner, running for his life.


	34. Ch 34: Requiem

**CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: THE REQUIEM **

Mayday put two rounds in the chest of another assailant. She witnessed his lifeless body drop backwards and fall to the ground, somewhat contorted with a leg and arm bent in an unnatural position. But at the same time, she felt a hot, stinging pain in her shoulder; the pain was so intense she almost dropped her firearm. She realized that before she completely took him out, he'd shot her in the shoulder. Mayday slid down behind the makeshift computer desk, trying to bear through the surfacing pain and regroup her thoughts.

Jinx was also pinned down and trying her best to avoid stray bullets. She was no longer standing but very still underneath and behind the dead guard, using him as a shield. Fortunately when the guards had made her surrender, they hadn't had a chance to check her for hidden weapons. Which was a good thing, because she had _tons _of hidden weapons on her, including a nine millimeter strapped to the inside of her leg. Pulling it out, she fired as fast as she could. Aiming at the last guard… other than Boa, anyway, she launched a flurry of bullets at him that he couldn't avoid. Hit with multiple rounds, the guards body dropped to the floor. Jinx cursed. She had been taken out with her flurry of bullets, but at a heavy price; her gun had jammed!

Boa's AR-15 had ran out of ammunition – and just in time, too. There was a period of time when the firing had stopped altogether in the room. Only a few seconds, but the eerie silence crept into everyone's mind – Mayday, Jinx, and Boa… the only ones left standing in the room. Mayday had just been wounded, Jinx weapon had jammed, and Boa ran out of ammunition. But both sides were still alive and ready to fight.

The large enemy soldier with one swift motion dropped his AR-15 and un-slung his minigun from his back, quickly bringing it up in his hands – he was ready to decimate the two women.

Jinx knew he was taking aim right at her and only had a split second to act… all from a lying down position. Moving her human shield to the side and grasping her sword, she threw her ninja blade as hard as she could… and it slammed point first into the electrical motor of the minigun.

She couldn't help but smirk, fully aware that her sword had destroying the weapon.

But she wasn't out of the clear. Infuriated at what she had done, Boa charged Jinx as fast as he could.

She wasn't smirking any longer. Jinx popped up to her feet as quickly as she could, realizing she'd be torn limb from limb if he was able to get a hold on her. Before he reached her, Mayday had recovered from the initial shock of her wound and unloaded her pistol. Several bullets hit the giant, but he remained unfazed.

Diving between his legs, Jinx was able to get out of the way of his crushing fists just in time. However, Mayday now had Boa's full attention… Jinx had destroyed his gun, but Mayday actually put a few rounds in the oversized warrior.

Mayday opened fire again, hoping to take him out before he reached her. His roars practically shook the room ignoring bullet after bullet that slammed into him. Maydays eyes widened with disbelief; they didn't slow him down let alone stop him. She lightly trembled, wondering what this guy was on. His momentum carried him right into her, knocking her to the ground with his enormous body crushing her from his weight alone.

But he didn't grab her. He didn't tear her limb from limb; in fact, he didn't even move. As Mayday pushed up against the body with futility, she felt a warm thick liquid oozing onto her. As she turned her head to the side – which was all she could move since he had her trapped – she saw a pool of blood on the floor. Not her blood. His. Which explained why he didn't pummel her to death. Mayday took a deep breath and looked at Jinx (of which the Asian warrior couldn't help but snicker seeing Mayday in such a position), trying unsuccessfully to push the monstrous carnage off of her, and with a weak wheeze, said, "Get him off me…"!

XXXXX

_You're not getting away,_ Scarlett thought, as if the Imposter could hear her, or somehow sense her thoughts and know she was rapidly chasing him down. With fierce determination to take him down, Scarlett ran as fast as she could after him while loading her crossbow.

He'd made it outside of the building and took off down the alleyway. Scarlett caught small glimpses of him running away from her as he swerved between dumpsters and old beat-up automobiles. He had furthered the distance between her, but now that he was running in a straight line she knew she could close the gap... he was no match for her on the straightaway because of the incredible amount of weight he'd been carrying on his back.

The alley eventually opened up to the rough, rugged terrain just along the cliff side and on the outskirts of the town. Scarlett guessed that the Impostor was heading away from town and along the cliff for the forest, hoping to lose the pursuers amongst the leafless trees and thorny brambles.

Not if she could help it.

Just as the Imposter had cleared the last building and had made it to the open flat, no more than twenty feet off the mountainside cliff, he was bowled over by a black streak that resembled something like a black panther.

_Snake-Eyes! Where did you come from…_

Once again, the durable warrior had surprised Scarlett and appeared out of thin air… like magic. But Snake-Eyes was no wizard even though his ninja prowess made him capable of feats that no other man could accomplish. She had assumed that Snake-Eyes was still in the building with Jinx and Mayday, but amidst the gunfire and chaos he apparently slipped out and found a different route.

Both Snake-Eyes and the Imposter were out of Scarlett's visual sight since Snake had knocked him behind the building. By the time she caught up, she saw Snake had already cut the rucksack off of the Imposter with one quick stroke of his sword. Both of the upper straps had been severed and judging by the scene Snake didn't hold back; a horizontal line of blood from shoulder blade to shoulder blade marked the path of his sword.

The Impostor howled in pain like a wounded animal and dropped to his knees… but still trying to get up and run away even _faster_. The sting of the blade was too much; the moment he made it to his feet, he stumbled forward and collapsed to the ground. Crawling towards the cliff side, he had nowhere else to go. He was desperate to escape with his life.

Scarlett moved forward quickly with her crossbow raised, just behind Snake. The warrior stood tall, taking slow and deliberate steps forward towards the injured terrorist… confident of his position but not enough to allow him to drop his guard and make a foolish mistake.

Training her weapon on the fallen man, Scarlett shouted, "Stop right there! You're not going anywhere!"

Scarlett noticed Snake-Eyes out of the corner of her eye; for a moment, she thought the warrior was seriously going to run him through with his blade. It wasn't any one thing in particular she noticed; it was just the way he seemed to carry himself… his body language, and the way his wrist turned his carbon-steel sword back and forth, back and forth. She'd never seen him do that before; not in training, not in the real world. It worried her.

"Snake…" she said with a much gentler voice, now standing by his side… but still fully focused on the Impostor. Snake didn't budge… or even seem to acknowledge her.

"Please… please don't…" the Impostor whimpered as he sat on his back side, crawling away from Snake-Eyes backwards, desperately holding up a hand in a feeble attempt to keep the silent man at bay.

Snake-Eyes stepped forward, bringing the point of his sword to the neck of the Impostor. For a moment, his head cocked slightly to the side… Scarlett knew he was contemplating running him through.

"Snake… we're the good guys, remember? Don't do it…"

Again, Snake-Eyes didn't budge. "Snake-Eyes…" Scarlett pleaded. "I know what he did to Ripcord, too. I know he deserves it. But that doesn't mean we can kill him. As much as I want to… as much pain as he has caused _all _of us, and despite the damage he almost caused to our country… well, you _know_ we can't. That's what separates weasels like him from the heroes like you."

Scarlett already knew what Snake-Eyes thought. She knew he didn't feel like a hero or believe that he was one… lucky, maybe. But not a hero. Time and time again he would tell her that he always ended up in the right place at the right time and somehow had a knack for escaping death, but he wasn't a hero. Scarlett disagreed.

Scarlett knew he was processing her words, even if he barely budged… let alone signed. His head slightly moved to the side; she knew he was thinking hard. He wanted to run him through, but he had to weigh the options of his actions with the consequences they would bring.

After a few desperate moments that seemed to last forever, Scarlett noticed him move again… very subtle and small movements. His sword-arm flexed tight and he squeezed down on the hilt of his sword with an intense grip. Snake-Eyes carefully applied more pressure to the point of his sword, pressing further against the skin of the Impostor; the victim had dropped all the way to the ground, sniveling as a small trickle of blood dripped down from his neck.

Scarlett's eyes widened, her mouth agape, realizing what he was about to do."Snake-Eyes! Listen to me!" Scarlett shouted in a sharp, fierce tone. "You _aren't_ going to do this! I'm telling you as a friend. I'm also telling you as a fellow soldier. You're moments away from making the wrong move… a move you can't recover from, and a decision that you can't _ever_ change! I will _NOT_ stand here and let you do that…"

She still had her crossbow trained on the Impostor, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Snake-Eyes head move down… no more than a quarter inch, but just enough where she could see she was getting through to the stubborn mule.

Still, this was Snake-Eyes… the man who always surprised her; the one she could never seem to fully read and may never completely be able to understand.

With a lightning-fast motion, Snake-Eyes struck.

His sword and front leg lunged forward before Scarlett knew what had happened; she gasped, startled at what had just transpired.

While her attention at first shifted to Snake-Eyes, she looked back at the Impostor, fully expecting to see his head symmetrically split into two halves.

She looked down at the Impostor, wiping the small beads of sweat off her forehead with the back of her glove. Scarlett realized that Snake-Eyes hadn't killed him, but in fact ran his sword into the ground within millimeters of the Impostors face. It was clear that Snake wanted to thrust his powerful sword right through his head, though. He must have used every ounce of willpower in his body to avoid running him through; the tension in his shoulders and the way he stared intensely at the Impostor… yes, she could tell even though he was masked… was absolutely frightening. She had now just witnessed Snake-Eyes at his angriest moment ever; she had seen the rage course through his veins and, somehow, resisted slaying this face of evil.

Apparently, the Impostor thought he was dead too, judging by the look on his face… the way his eyes were tightly closed, the sweat coming from his brow, and the nerves visibly shaking in his cheeks as he clenched his teeth.

_You'll never harm anyone again, you son of a bitch, _Scarlett thought_. _She was half relieved that Snake-Eyes didn't run him through… though a surprisingly large part of her realized that she _did_ have a significant amount of disappointment within her because he _didn't _kill him. This revelation had shocked her, and reminded her that sparing his life wasn't an easy decision for Snake-Eyes.

But she trusted him… she always trusted him. And with that encouraging thought… well, she couldn't help but smile at Snake-Eyes. _You scared me for a moment, Snake. I really thought you were going to kill him. He deserves it, don't get me wrong, but… you really, really scared me._

Snake briefly shifted his attention to Scarlett and nodded to her, as if he understood her worry and concern, before turning his head back and pulling his sword out of the ground.

Scarlett slung her crossbow over her shoulder and pulled out a pair of military handcuffs, bending down to put them on him. "Hands up in the air and roll over on your stomach."

The Impostor started to put his hands in the air, but he had a surprise.

Somehow, without either Snake-Eyes or Scarlett noticing, he deftly pulled out a hidden knife tucked away in a concealed sheath. In an instant, he threw it straight at the heart of Snake-Eyes… with an incredible swift throw.

Had it been any other man, odds were that the knife would have struck true through the heart and kill them instantly. Snake moved at the last minute, dodging the fatal blow with a quick sidestep to the left, but the knife still struck him in the right side of the chest.

Scarlett pounced on the man instantly, ready to beat him into submission… or even pummel him to death, if necessary, but he kicked her square in the chest – the force of his kick was staggering and, more importantly, knocked her backwards and off balance. While it didn't so much hurt her, it did put distance between her and the two men.

The Impostor stood up as quick as he could and charged Snake-Eyes. Snake was ready for him, putting up his hands to block the Impostor, but in his weakened state, he couldn't defend the attacker from grabbing and twisting the knife in his chest, making him almost pass out from the incredible amount of pain.

Snake-Eyes seized up in an incredible amount of pain, staggering backwards towards the edge of the cliff, trying to break the hold that the Impostor had on him.

Scarlett stood back up on her feet as quickly as she could but Snake-Eyes and the Impostor were already grappling in hand to hand combat; Snake was clearly at a disadvantage… yet, somehow, was holding his ground. Had he not been injured, the fight would have been over, she knew._ Is he doing what I think he is?_

Scarlett ran towards Snake-Eyes as fast as she could, her heart pounding, fully realizing what the man in black had planned on. Slowly but surely, step by step, Snake-Eyes had positioned himself closer to the cliff side. There was no doubt Snake would have been screaming in pain as loud as he could, if he could speak; the grinding of the knife had to have been way too painful to bear, let alone imagine. Yet he still stood on his own two feet and, not only that… he was prepared to take the Impostor over the cliff side and into the lake side water at least a hundred feet below.

"Noooo! Snake!"Scarlett ran as fast as she could, watching the scene unfold in front of her.

Snake-Eyes _did _get the upper-hand in combat, just like she was used to seeing. With a quick right knee to the ribs and a quick twist of his body, he shifted the Impostor between himself and the hundred-foot drop.

He pushed him backwards and gave a quick push-kick to the chest, but the Impostor grabbed Snake-Eyes leg…

Scarlett saw the Impostor fall down the cliff, but…

Snake-Eyes, in his weakened state, couldn't shake him off. He turned his body, grasping for something to grab and he fell to the ground…

But he was pulled off the cliff and slipped away… just like that… out of her sight.

Already running towards them, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Her outstretched hands reached towards Snake-Eyes.


	35. Ch 35: The Edge

**CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: THE EDGE**

Her heart had stopped… or at least it felt like it. But just as fast as reality had kicked in, Scarlett realized her heart hadn't stopped; it was, in fact, racing a million miles an hour. Running as fast as she could towards the edge of the cliff, she grabbed Snake's right hand with both of hers… trying desperately to maintain her balance while holding on to him.

Snake-Eyes grasped her hand back… weakly, but showing signs of life nonetheless. But between her momentum and the tiny round rocks on top of the cliff, Scarlett felt herself slipping over the edge as well. She tried to lean backwards, but that didn't help, either. She couldn't plant her feet. If she didn't let go of him, she was going over, too.

She felt Snake-Eyes let go of her wrist; each and every one of his five fingers was wide open and spread out, as if to say, _Let me go, Shana._

_No, Snake. I'm NOT going to let you go. If you go over, I'm going with you… like it or not._ Scarlett pulled his hand closer to him, feeling her body sliding off the cliff along with Snake-Eyes. _You're not telling me what to do this time. If we die, at least we'll be together on the other side. I'll be there with you, Snake._

Scarlett was glad… for the first time, ever… that Snake-Eyes wore a mask. She could just imagine the look on his face when he'd realized she was going over with him; a look of… shock? Anger? Worst yet… disappointment? No matter what the look was, it was one she _knew_ she wouldn't want to see. After all, if she had let Snake-Eyes kill the Impostor, this never would have happened. It's not like Snake-Eyes had never killed before, but she knew he had never killed anyone in a moment of rage… and he came very close to doing just that. And that would have changed him, for the worse.

Then again, if only she had let him run him through, they wouldn't be in this situation. She wouldn't blame him for being disappointed in her.

She desperately reached back in a futile attempt, trying to grab anything she could get a hold of with her free arm, while her other hand kept a kung-fu grip on Snake-Eyes arm. Her long slender legs wrapped tightly around Snake-Eyes waist… there was _no way_ that he was going to slide out of her grasp.

Even if she couldn't find anything to hold on to.

Her hand… desperately grabbing for anything, felt nothing but pebbles and dirt and her momentum was too great for her to stop. Scarlett sailed off the edge of the cliff.

Her heart jumped up into her throat; her initial reaction was to close her eyes – tightly… as tight as possible, just like a teenager might after plummeting down the world's tallest roller coaster – and pray… _pray…_ as hard as she could. _Oh, God, I… _Words escaped her in that moment, but her prayer was written on her heart and on the forefront in her mind.

But… even if her prayers weren't answered, and if she was going over the edge – if she absolutely wasn't going to get out of this one alive… well, then at least she'd be with Snake-Eyes. _I'm sorry I couldn't save you…_

It felt as if she was gliding through the air like a baby bird falling from the sky. She was completely weightless, and everything suddenly became quiet except for the calm whisper of the quiet wind.

Snapping her back to reality, Scarlett felt something grab her arm roughly. Or someone. Two hands on her wrist… no, three. No… now there were four hands on her body. It was as if the hands of the angels themselves had stopped her from falling over the cliffs edge. She suddenly became aware of the fact that it might not be over for her and Snake… not just yet anyway. God _did_ answer her prayer.

With her eyes fully opened, she looked up to see who had grabbed her arm. There were two; the first was a scruffy-looking man with large fore-arms, struggling to keep his balance as he squat in position – leaning backward – tightly holding on to her arm. The other was a blonde lady in a tight black combat outfit, squatting in a similar pose as the man next to her except with one leg lunging out to the side for balance.

Clutch and Vorona.

She had never been so happy to see either one of them!

"Bet you've never been so glad to see me, huh, babe?" Clutch asked Scarlett with a grunt, pulling her up to safety. "I was gonna tell you to lay off the Snickers but I realized all that extra weight you were carrying happened to be a hundred and eighty pound ninja, so you're off the hook this time."

Scarlett was overjoyed to see him, something she never thought would happen in a million years. Having moments ago been under the assumption that she would have joined the Impostor in a hundred-foot fall into the deep lake – and, with her luck, plastered along the jagged rocks jutting out of the water – she didn't mind his chauvinistic comment. This time, anyway.

"Keep pulling her up," Vorona told Clutch as she bent down to grab Snake-Eyes and hoist him up. "Oh no…" she whispered in a hushed voice, realizing for the first time that Snake had been gravely wounded. Clutch looked over at Vorona and gave her a knowing look, fully aware of the situation. After they had dragged both Scarlett and Snake-Eyes back on the stable ground, Clutch pulled out a small emergency medical kit out of one of his oversized cargo pockets. "Snake, hold on man… we'll get you through this. Just don't give up on us…"

XXXXX

Snake was still conscious, but barely. He knew he was in bad shape. He was getting weaker by the moment; of course he knew most of it was subconscious now that the true threat was eliminated and his adrenaline surge had started declining. It was getting harder to breathe; his chest had to work harder at sucking in oxygen… rising and falling, inhaling and exhaling, at a much more of a dramatic pace. Every time he breathed in he could feel a stabbing pain in his chest.

He was flat on his back, but his three allies were doing the best they could to stop the bleeding. He could hear all three of them talking at the same time. For starters, Vorona had pulled out a radio, apparently attempting to get a hold of someone. Snake-Eyes couldn't tell who… in fact, he could hardly tell what she was saying. It was hard to center his attention on anything else other than breathing and staying alive… especially when it took so much of his focus and discipline.

Clutch was talking to Scarlett; it sounded like he was giving her instructions to help assist him as he tried to get the bleeding to stop.

Scarlett. For some reason, she looked more beautiful than ever. But the look on her face… pure anguish and torment. But still… she looked radiant. Even with random strands of red hair that had escaped from her pony tail brushing against the side of her face. It seemed as if Scarlett was caught between trying to help Clutch and speaking words of encouragement to Snake-Eyes… simultaneously. _I knew I needed to teach her to multi-task a little better than this,_ he thought to himself.

A soft sensation brushed against the fingers on his right hand. Scarlett… yes, it was her. She was holding his hand, talking to him. With weak fingers, he held her hand as tight as he could.

Snake-Eyes couldn't tell what she was saying, but it didn't matter; he could hear her words, even though he couldn't quite decipher them. Her words and manner was somehow soothing… peaceful. They gave him such a… a calming feeling.

Scarlett had lifted his hand; he meant to hold her hand back, he truly did. But he couldn't; he couldn't even lift his hand when she had raised it up to her chest.

Clutch was yelling something at her, Snake could tell… Clutch seemed agitated. Scarlett was initially ignoring him; whether or not it was on purpose, Snake-Eyes didn't know. Eventually, Scarlett turned her head to focus on what Clutch was asking her.

Turning his head to the side, looking out over the cliff side, Snake-Eyes noticed for the first time that the sun was rising over the lake… the dawn had broke. The dark night was over, and the glowing ball of fire was slowly rising over the horizon, shining its rays of light across Borovia. The light seemed brighter than usual; Snake-Eyes had to squint just to see the sunrise. It was bright… so intensely bright it was hard to see – but it was worth it. The blinding rays from the sun filled up his eyelids even through his visor… so strong, so overpowering – the only thing that he could see…

Scarlett, still holding his hand… as tightly as she could, and with both of her hands, felt his hand go limp.


	36. Ch 36: Mission Complete!

_So here it is, the last chapter of AFW2! THIS IS THE END. I have a part 3 I have been working but honestly it will take a looong time before I can even think of posting it. I may also add a one or two "bonus epilog" stories since I did set up a few side stories, and I may even add an "authors notes" chapter just for fun. Those of you who actually stood by from beginning to end (Phoenix, Quathis, Atlantis Girl, Ms Heart of Swords, Willwrite4fics, etc) then I tip my hat and thank you for being so patient since this story took so long to get out. Most of all I just hope you all enjoyed the story!_

_-AF Iron_

**CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX: MISSION COMPLETE**

It was still too bright to see, but it was also loud. The sound of the rushing air was like a swirling vortex… a tornado ripping across the countryside. Maybe even the sound that one would experience while standing next to the train tracks as a locomotive blasted by at a hundred miles an hour. The feeling… the feeling of pure power and force. The blast of the wind against his skin was intense. Maybe he was caught in the thundering, powerful tornado and its raging winds… the same powerful winds that were kicking up dust and debris…?

It felt like he was flat on his back, levitating. Not like he was jerked around roughly, as he imagined he would have been had he had been caught in a tornado, but… more of a gentle sway as his body floated – mostly still – floating up towards the sky. It reminded him of a Bible story he read in his youth, about a man named Elijah and how he was taken up to heaven in a whirlwind. He wondered if this was how Elijah felt when he left the earth.

Snake-Eyes tried to adjust his sight despite the bright light; he wanted to lift his arms and shield his eyes, but he was too weak to do so. Something was spinning up above him… round and round and round in a perfect circular motion. They looked black – or perhaps a dull black – but at the speed they moved, it seemed fast enough to reflect the sunlight. It was a familiar scene… something he had seen before – possibly during his time in Iraq, or Afghanistan…

Still in a haze… his mind was far from fully coherent… the hypnotic motion of the spinning helicopter blades up above was the last thing he saw before he faded out…

XXXXX

Voices and sounds blended together making it impossible to isolate an individual source of noise. His vision was blurry – shades of grey dominated his eyesight while pieces of dark grey and white started to come into focus. Looking around, the sight was a familiar one.

_Hospital. I'm in a hospital._ Snake-Eyes slowly started to comprehend his surroundings. Although it took a lot of mental power to focus, he quickly deduced that the walls were made of steel and lined with bolts. Like a bulkhead of a naval vessel. _I'm in the hospital ward… on some kind of Navy ship? I must be on the J.F.K. I guess we made it out of Borovia after all._

"Snake-Eyes?"

Snake had finally been able to make out the voices. And this voice… such a sweet, gentle voice. A recognizable voice.

"Snake-Eyes? Don't sit up, lay back down! Hey… we're aboard the John F. Kennedy; we made it! Mission complete, big guy…"

_*_Shana,* he started to sign weakly.

She smiled warmly at him. "Even though the mission is complete, until I take the uniform off, it's Scarlett. You know that. I'm not the same little girl that you left in Atlanta." She continued to lecture him with bright emerald eyes, "I did earn that right the moment I completed training and joined the unit. The moment I showed up at The Pit in that lovely snowstorm…"

Snake-Eyes didn't say anything for a moment, and remained quiet as always. He nodded. The smile she returned to him was all he needed to know that she had finally gotten through to him. Whether or not he'd start calling her Scarlett was another story, though.

His first initial reaction was to press up against her hands and sit up on the hospital bed… he wasn't one to lie down and recuperate, if he could help it; still, he didn't lay back down all the way, either. Whether it was out of defiance or simply gathering his strength, Snake-Eyes stopped in place, propping himself up on an elbow, trying to let everything spinning in his head come to a complete stop.

"Snake, I said lay back down!" Scarlett raised her tone… something he wasn't accustomed to. He begrudgingly did.

_Ok, you win this one. Only because the mission is over. _Not that he minded. Whatever kind of medicine they put him on did have him a little disoriented. He certainly didn't do it because she _told_ him to lie back down…

*What happened? How'd we get here?*

"Well, the doctors said you shouldn't have visitors yet, but our protocol allows me to debrief you. Besides you're not going anywhere, so get comfortable, hun" she calmly told him.

Scarlett told him everything… about Snake-Eyes knocked the Impostor off the cliff, and how he almost went over as well; about how she managed to grab him…

Although, she _did _neglect mentioning – for whatever reason – how she almost went over the cliff also in an attempt to drag him to safety. She did add that Clutch and Vorona grabbed _her,_ just in the nick of time. Even though the details after that were anti-climatic, Scarlett also went into detail about how Jinx and Mayday shortly met back up with them. All six of them… plus Dr. Bennett, were able to continue to the rendezvous with the naval aircraft carrier.

Snake-Eyes listened to the story. *So, Mayday grabbed the bomb… and it's safe and secure, on board the ship? It never activated?*

Scarlett smiled, nodding. "Yep. Dr. Bennett is safe and, now that we have the bomb, he probably won't even need to testify at the Security Council. I'm sure he'll still have plenty to say about his time in Borovia, though. In fact, after we sent our Sitrep back to The Pit, they told us they'd be sending in reconnaissance aircraft to start taking pictures in Wolken. They've already tapped into the satellites."

Snake-Eyes took in every word she said, carefully, breathing a sigh of relief that their role was now over. _Sounds like they can leave the rest to the Air Force… at least for now._

Leaning his head back, he calmly took in a deep breath. *I woke up for a while. I think it was on the helicopter that picked us up. I assume it was the one that took us here… to the carrier. Did you or the others encounter any resistance between Wolken and the coastline?*

She shook her head. "Nope… we made it away clean; not a soul stood between us. And trust me… we hustled as fast as we could."

Snake nodded. *I would have hated for us to miss our rendezvouz.*

Scarlett looked puzzled for a moment, before fully realizing what he was saying. "No, no… you don't get it, Snake! We weren't worried about that… we knew they'd be there waiting; we hurried as fast as we could to get _you _some medical treatment! You know, you scared me, Snake!" Scarlett actually laughed… something of a quiet, nervous laugh; something one could only do _well_ after an intense situation had been stabilized.

"Again!" she said exasperated, brushing a loose strand of red hair out of her face. Snake-Eyes noticed her hair was no longer in a pony tail, but hung loose and freely. In fact, he realized she had cleaned up and looked like she had just finished a modeling photo shoot.

Underneath his mask, he also couldn't help but smile. Her eyes seemed to sparkle… more than normal; were her gorgeous green eyes misting up?

He wanted to thank Scarlett for saving him, and getting him medical attention and to the ship, but… he wasn't sure how to respond. Not many people had gone the lengths that she went to bail him out of trouble. Often it was him who was bailing someone else out of trouble. This was a first.

Scarlett, more than used to the awkward silence by now, picked up the lull in the conversation. "You know, it wasn't just me… it was all of us. Clutch and Jinx helped me carry you, too, while Vorona and Mayday cleared the way to the rendezvous point and made sure we weren't ambushed."

*Clutch. I bet he was in heaven with the four of you girls. So did how many of you did he manage to insult this time?*

For the second time in the conversation, Scarlett was caught off guard. Her brow wrinkled. "You mean you _knew_ what a pig that S.O.B. is? And you never told me?" She wasn't sure whether to be mad at him, or whether to laugh. For a moment she thought it was quite possible to do both. But she preferred mad.

Snake-Eyes shoulders moved up and down and his head lowered. He couldn't help but laugh at the redhead. *Yes, I knew,* he signed.

_Of _course_ I knew._

Before she could even get a "but…" out, Snake continued. *He's a good guy, even if he doesn't always act like it. Besides, it wasn't my place to interfere.*

For a moment, he thought he saw a trace of disappointment on her face. But… just like she had done so many times before, she disguised it with a phony smile.

*Did you _want_ me to interfere, Scarlett?* he signed slowly and deliberately. He watched her lower her head, clearly deep in thought, processing his words. She opened her mouth as if she was going to speak, but nothing came out.

*Yes, that's right. I knew you could handle it. I'm not saying biting my tongue has been easy, but I know what you're capable of. You don't need me to play big brother for you. It isn't a matter of whether or not I _want_ to play that role or not…*

Snake-Eyes smiled subtly to himself. Of course he wanted to interfere. Interfere with a roundhouse. Clutch could use it; a boot up side his head could only serve to improve his thought process with women. Especially how he viewed Scarlett. But as hard as it was to convince himself that it wasn't his place to interfere, his discipline won out in the end. Still, he wasn't about to admit that to her.

Scarlett smiled, looking downward and almost blushing. "Big brother, huh?" Her eyebrow raised, ever so slightly. She wasn't quite sure how to take the "big brother" compliment… if it was a compliment. "Big brother" wasn't exactly how she imagined Snake-Eyes…although now that he mentioned it, there certainly was a protective element that he had – much like her older brothers. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

Snake-Eyes let out a soft laugh, trying not to aggravate his body and cause any more pain. *Big brother. Of sorts. And…* he continued, until he was interrupted.

"And… you wanted me to feel like a true member of the team so you let me fend for myself."

There was a moment of quiet between the two.

Scarlett's face started to redden. Putting her hands behind her back and crossing one leg behind the other, twisting the toe of her boot against the floor, she said, "And you even called me Scarlett…" She leaned down, kissing Snake-Eyes on his cheek. "Thank you, Snake-Eyes. I guess the last thing I need – or want – is a _fourth_ big brother." A sly smile surfaced on her face. "Three is certainly enough for me."

The wounded soldier nodded.

"You know," Scarlett started to say, looking upwards and pondering her next words as she spoke, "…if Clutch were a bit smoother… like, oh… say, a ninja in black, he just might have better luck with the ladies." Scarlett folded her arms and winked. Snake-Eyes laughed silently. He pointed to his sword, puffed out his chest, and flexed his biceps. It was Scarlett's turn to giggle; she practically doubled over in laughter, keeping her balance with her hands on her thighs. "Yep, or if he had a sword."

Snake-Eyes pointed to his bicep, then pretended to fire a weapon.

Scarlett laughed hysterically, so much so that her face turned red. "Yes, or if his 'guns' were as big as yours. You braggart."

Their laughter lasted for what felt like minutes before it died down. Scarlett put her hand on top of Snake-Eyes as she pulled up a chair to sit down next to him.

*By the way, how was your first mission?*

Scarlett immediately turned red. She knew it was an innocent question; yet, after all that happened, her first instantaneous thoughts should have been of her amazing throwing star shot to the Impostors helmet, or sneaking around Dr. Walker's secret basement, or her stealthy maneuvers while raiding the building in Wolken, or … or _anything _other than the guilt laden thoughts that first popped into her mind.

But no!

Dancing. Dancing for someone else… something she told Snake she'd _never_ do. Even if it _was_ for the mission. THAT was the first thing she thought of.

"It, um…." Scarlett cleared her throat. "It was… quite an experience." She quickly tried to think of _anything_ but dancing.

Despite her awkwardness, she stalled long enough to recall some of her more amazing and tangible experiences. Amazing experiences for a first mission; some wonderful, some frightening, and some just plain horrible. But experiences that would make her stronger nonetheless. "Everything you taught me helped keep me alive, you know."

Snake-Eyes hand flickered upwards for a moment, as if he was going to say something. _I'm proud of you, Shana,_ Snake-Eyes thought. He resisted signing it.

The awkward silence resurfaced.

"Well, Snake-Eyes, the doctor tells me you need your sleep, so I should be going. I…"

Scarlett turned to walk away, but before she could pull her hand out of his, Snake-Eyes grabbed her wrist. Tightly.

Scarlett seemed a bit startled. Snake-Eyes understood why; he had never grabbed her quite like that before. He didn't mean to alarm her… he didn't even mean to grab her that forcefully.

He started to sit up, but again she protested with the same firm tone she had used earlier. "Snake-Eyes, you need to lie down! We've been over this…"

This time, he ignored her.

It hurt sitting up, but it was something he had to do. He felt a little disoriented… not as much as before, but enough to make sitting up a small challenge.

Even after he sat up on the bed, he took another step… and stood up.

Her mouth was open and her eyebrows were furrowed as if she was ready to lecture him again… ready to _tear_ into him, but didn't say anything. Whether it was because she was shocked that Snake-Eyes didn't listen to her, whether it was because she had finally backed down to him, or whether it was simply because she wanted to see what he'd do next, neither of them quite knew why. It didn't matter anyway. Not now, at least.

He took her by both wrists, and raised her hands up to his face, placing them on his mask.

Snake-Eyes could see in her eyes that she was slowly piecing together what he was doing. Gently…softly, she responded. Her fingertips touched him lightly. Then, both of her hands caressed his face. He could see that sparkle back in her deep, green eyes; yes, it was because her eyes were watering again. This time he was sure of it.

She slowly ran her hands over his mask, feeling the scars through the fabric.

_It's amazing. She can practically read my mind._

For the longest time, he knew that Scarlett wanted to see him without his mask. He didn't know why _anyone _would want that. It crossed his mind that once she saw his face, it would terrify her.

And maybe it still would. Yet he knew how important this was to her.

Never in a million years did he believe he would show anyone his face, let alone someone so close and dear to him. Let alone the _only_ person who was truly close to him… who understood him. Who seemed to know him better than anyone else. Who could understand him without him having to sign a single word.

His body would have started to shake if he didn't force himself not to; it took everything in him to control his movements. Yet, taking her fingers which were already upon his cheeks, he slid them downwards…slowly, to the edge of the mask.

Her fingers slowly slid underneath his mask… gently, delicately pulling it upwards. Before either of them knew what happened, the mask was off of his head.

Scarlett ran her fingers over his face, tracing over each and every scar. For the first time, she looked into his eyes. Deep into his eyes. No longer hidden by a mask, his beautiful eyes seemed to stand out. She couldn't take her eyes off of his; for a moment, Snake twinged and started to look away but she held his chin gently in her hand… she wouldn't allow him to look away.

Snake-Eyes practically held his breath, not sure what she would think; was she studying him like a science project? He didn't know. His body was completely rigid. Maybe he had made a mistake. The last thing he wanted her gentle touch to mean was, "You poor, poor man!"

But no. Forced to look into her very own eyes… and having her stare back into his, it suddenly became clear to him. Just as if someone turned on a light above his head.

He could tell by her eyes… more so by the way her eyes looked into _his, _that it wasn't pity she felt for him. And it was in the subtle touch of her fingers, how it traced every line of his scarred face. It was almost as if she was a blind person, trying to see who he was. It was like she was trying to connect with him on a deeper level. The tracing of the scars soon turned into stroking motions on the side of his face, lightly with the back of her hand.

"Snake-Eyes…" she barely whispered, almost choking on his name. "You…"

"You're beautiful…" Scarlett leaned in and kissed him, her hands sliding from his face to the back of his head. She kissed him a full, passionate kiss on his lips.

Snake-Eyes had never felt so stunned… and so elated, all at the same time. He kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her. Never… NEVER… had anyone made him feel so special. Somehow, she didn't see him as the monster that he believed himself to be. The beauty had somehow overlooked the skin of the beast.

Her kiss turned into a hug. A strong, tight embracing kind of a hug. He felt something wet against his cheek. Her tears. Her body started to quiver, crying without making a sound. Her emotions had overwhelmed her. Snake-Eyes couldn't figure out… was it emotions now that the adrenaline was gone from her first, long, and taxing mission? Emotions because he was had almost died? Was it her guilt after all these years that had finally surfaced, feeling responsible for his scarred condition? Emotions because she felt something more for him than he ever thought _anyone _could feel for… for him?

He didn't quite know. But in this moment, he didn't care. He held her back tightly. Snake-Eyes leaned down, kissing her cheek gently and nuzzling his rough and coarse cheek against her own.

Even his emotions were getting the best of him. He wheezed for a moment. A hissing sound rose up out of his lungs, as if air was escaping a balloon. "Ssss…."

Once again, the sound resurfaced. Snake-Eyes held Scarlett tighter. "Ssss…shh….." Scarlett, still holding the strong warrior, looked up at him with a worried look, unsure of what was happening. He'd never made that noise before. "Snake, relax…don't…"

The silent commando tried as hard as he could to concentrate.

"Sss….Shhhh…."

"Shana…."


	37. Ch X1

**CHAPTER X: EPILOGUE - CLUTCH**

His left hand started shaking again, all by itself. He grabbed it with his other hand, trying to keep it still. Looking around the room to see if anyone noticed, Clutch spotted Cover Girl staring in his direction.

"Hey, Clutch, you ok?" she asked him.

"Yea, fine," he murmured back to her, turning his back to her and walking down the hall. He just wanted to get back to his quarters… to be left alone.

Cover Girl stepped forward and held her arm out. She wanted to tell him to stop, or at least say "Hey, wait", but… for some reason, she didn't say anything. With her mouth wide open, she lowered her arm and breathed out a sigh of disappointment. Her concern was genuine… _very _genuine_. _But she didn't quite know what to say, …not for this kind of situation, and certainly not to him.She just stood there, legs frozen in place, watching Clutch walk away.

XXXXX

_It should've been me. I should've died with you._ Clutch sat on his bed, look intently at a framed photograph he held in his hands. He looked at the five men in the photo… all smiling, heads held high. Graduation Day; five of the original team members to make the classified unit… back when they didn't even know what the name of the unit was going to be. But through all the grueling physical trials, intellectual tests, and performance during several mock battle scenarios, somehow… they made it. They were in.

From left to right, Snake-Eyes was the first. He stood tall and proud, wearing an old black pair of sunglasses. In this picture, Snake was untarnished from the explosion that would later scar his face beyond recognition. He originally wasn't going to be in the picture, Clutch remembered, until he happened to be in the area and the other four called him in to have his photo taken. Though Snake wasn't as close as the other four were, he sweated and bled throughout training just like they did. Maybe even more.

Snake-Eyes had a hand on Steelers shoulder, who had his arms crossed and his chest jutting out in a "Superman" pose.

Clutch stood in the middle, his arms around both Steeler and Grand Slam, shouting at the top of his lungs. Even though you couldn't hear a word while you looked at the picture, Clutch could still hear the sound of his triumphant screaming within his head.

Grand Slam… that baseball nut was posing for the camera as if he was holding a steel baseball bat and ready to knock it out of the park.

Clutch smiled, looking at that picture, oblivious to the fact that a single tear drop fell from his face and landed on the glass covering of the picture. He remembered how 'The Slam' always made that stupid pose for not just this picture, but practically any other picture he had ever taken. Grand Slams no-kidding actual military I.D. picture… well, the moment before Security Forces snapped the picture (they were head shots only at the time), Slam managed to turn his shoulders at the last second, just enough to where it appeared that he was actually staring down the pitcher and ready to hit a home run. Or, rather… a grand slam.

Flash… Flash was the last man and on the far right. With exception of Snake-Eyes himself, Flash was one of the quieter guys. Sometimes, though, he'd surprise everyone by doing something extremely random, shattering his quiet-guy image. Like on Graduation Day. Flash simply went _insane._ This picture captured that true spirit; both hands were giving the bird to the camera. Both middle fingers were straight in the air as he bent backwards. And Flash even held his arms way out to make sure it could be seen, as if it was in 3D. His contorted face and tongue sticking out made him look like Gene Simmons… except with more attitude.

But now… they were gone. Two of the five were gone, just like that. Flash, dead. Grand Slam, dead.

Not to mention the other team members that had been killed in combat, even if he wasn't as close to them. They were also brothers in arms; they also fought side by side with him in the darkest hour. But death and carnage had ripped through their team like a plague, leaving nothing in its wake.

_I should have been with you guys. I should've died with you. I should even be with you now, brothers. Wherever you're at._ The emotions were simply too much for him to process. He laughed, even with tears in his eyes. _You're supposed to be a warrior, Clutch. What would they think of you now? _Shame fell over him, sinking deep into his skin. He thought of all the times he came out on top and everything he had been through; thinking of all the previous battles he had been in, the psyche tests he passed to make the team, the grit and determination that he once had. _Nothing_ ever fazed him. So why was he falling apart right now?

His hand started shaking again. The picture fell out of his grasp, but he caught it at the last minute… just before it hit the floor and shattered the covering glass. With his eyes wide opened, he held the picture tightly with his right hand. Very tightly. As if it was a precious, irreplaceable gift given to him, Clutch set it very carefully back on his stand next to his bed next to his other pictures.

He had several other pictures on his cluttered night stand. His favorite was the one of himself in his racecar suit, just after he won one of his big races. His left arm was held up high in a victory pose as he stretched himself far outside the driver's window.

Another picture was of his favorite newly-restored yellow 1974 Plymouth Barracuda that he had worked so hard to rebuild; it took three consecutive summers for him to get the money he needed to rebuild the engine and put the rest of the car together.

The last picture was of a younger Clutch, or "Lance", at the time, and Father O'Malley, both with big smiles while shaking hands. Clutch had just finished high school, and his pastor has personally wanted to congratulate him. There was always something about Father O'Malley that he liked. In fact, every time he saw the crucifix hanging on Father O'Malley in the picture, it reminded him that there truly were good people left in the world. There was just something… something pleasant about that cross.

But the other pictures didn't mean a thing to him right now. At least not compared to the picture of the five men standing tall and strong. In fact, Clutch never even noticed the other pictures.

Leaning over, he put his head in his hands. His fingers ran though his hair. The tears that drenched his hands soaked his dark black hair as he lowered his head down even lower, shaking and weeping, but all without making a sound. Here was a man that had done so much for so many others, but he sat on the edge of his bed a broken man.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but his position never changed. There were no more tears to fall from his face. Clutch reached over to the night stand and opened the drawer, trying not to look at Grand Slam and Flash in the picture. It was just too much for him to look at them right now. Reaching in the drawer, he pulled out his nine millimeter – ironically the same one Grand Slam got him after graduation. _Don't thank me,_ he remembered Slam telling him. _You'll need this to cover my back when I'm blasting apart the bad guys._ They had just found out their primary job on the team would be armored cavalry; they were both so young and still so full of fire in their veins, but they were also very experienced and the best candidates for the Special Ops team they just signed on to. Youth and experience. A lethal combination.

But that memory quickly faded from his mind. Only the cold steel in his hand and the texture of the grip brought to life what he was truly thinking. Wrestling his inner demons, slightly shaking, he pointed the gun straight up in the air... taking in a deep breath, he leaned his head forward, resting it on the barrel.

The grief was overwhelming. The pain was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He'd taken shrapnel from explosions, even taken a few bullets once... but that was nothing compared to how he was feeling at this moment in time.

He raised the weapon, slowly guiding the barrel of the firearm up to his head.

Up to his temple.

With one last internal struggle, he fought, desperately seeking a reason inside him to stay alive. He searched… he tried. He couldn't find anything inside him, but kept looking. He put the gun down, resting it in his lap, and took a deep breath.

Then he raised it again… more forcefully, and up against his temple so hard that it almost made a circular impression on his skin. Gritting his teeth, he breathed harder. Much harder, much faster…

XXXXX

_Knock knock knock…_

Clutch lurched up. The knocking on the door had certainly startled him, and his gun almost fell out of his tight grasp. His heart was pounding even harder now; he could feel the pulse from his heartbeat in his fingertips. For a moment, he just stared at the door, not sure how to respond.

_Knock knock knock…_

The second set of knocks seemed to bring him to his senses. _This isn't the time,_ he thought angrily, putting his gun back in the night stand drawer. _Maybe if I don't say anything, they'll go away._

_Knock Knock Knock…_

The bangs against the door were much harder this time. "Clutch, I know you're in there!" _Courtney?_ Yes, it was her voice. _What is she doing here?_

He opened his mouth to speak, but literally choked – his throat was too dry. It took him a moment to swallow and form a response. "Courtney, go away! Not now." _Stubborn broad. _

_THUMP THUMP THUMP…!_

_Jeeze Cover Girl!_ "You hit it any harder and you'll break my door!"

"Then open it, Ricky Bobby!" Cover Girl wasn't holding back – she was exasperated at being shut out… and she wanted in. As if that wasn't enough, he could hear her muttering a tapestry of insults on the other side of the door such as _moron, second-rate mechanic,_ and _hillbilly._

_Man, what's got her so uptight? I mean more than normal… _"Alright, alright," Clutch said, getting up and unlocking the door. He sighed, wanting absolutely _nothing_ to do with her right now, even though he knew she must have felt like he was being a jackass. The last time she went off on him like that was when he drained out her shampoo and replaced it with motor oil. Unfortunately she didn't get any in her hair... just a little on her hand and arms… so he heard – but boy, did she let him have it! Now _that _he deserved. Had he actually had the capability to smile, this would have been the one moment from his past that would have brought a smile to his face.

Clutch opened the door slightly, trying to step in between the door and the door jam, hoping she'd say whatever it was she had to say and then go away.

Cover Girl stood outside, arms crossed, and frowning. But she took a deep breath, relaxing her shoulders. Exasperated, but clearly trying to calm herself down, she said, "Look, I just wanted to make sure you were ok. It's been rough for all of us lately…"

Clutch looked at her a little closer. Something caught his eye… her mascara. Normally, it was picture perfect; he should know with his staring problem and all. Especially with her. But… it looked like it had smeared a little… was she crying? Well, if she was her eyes had dried by now…

"Well, it looks like you're your normal jerk-self. I guess that's a good sign, given everything that's happened lately."

Clutch noticed that as she started to speak, her face became even less angry and more… well, tender. Or so it seemed to him.

She started to say more, but changed her mind. Arms still crossed, she pivoted a little, shifting her weight to her other leg. "Well, I guess that's all I wanted to say." Cover Girl started to walk away.

_Man, I've been an ass. _Clutch remembered how close she was to the other guys, too. Her and the Slam were practically dating. In fact, he suspected they _were_ dating, at least for a week or two before their last mission. "Hey, Court…"

Cover Girl turned back around. The tenderness in his voice… that wasn't Clutch. That wasn't normal. All she wanted was for things to get back to normal, and… it seemed a long ways away after all. Her lip started to quiver. _Don't lose it, Courtney. Don't cry…_ She couldn't cry, not now. She hadn't since they made it back to The Pit.

He hadn't seen this side of her before. Suddenly, it was as if a light turned on over his head. Through all of his own pain, he had been blinded. Blinded to the fact that there were others that were hurting, too. _What have I done? I'm such an idiot. I really… I almost... _

It wasn't time for him to worry about that, not right now. Her simple presence had saved his life. Not only that… she unknowingly had revealed to him that he wasn't alone in this darkness… this grief, this despair. They were all in it. Together. Just as they fought together and bled together… they would also mourn together.

Stepping forward, Clutch took Cover Girl into his arms, holding her tightly. "It's ok, Courtney. It'll be ok…"

Cover Girl should have been shocked that this repugnant, chauvinistic cretin dared to touch her. But, given the circumstances, the thought didn't even cross her mind. Instead, she started to sob. A quiet sob. Burying her head in his shoulder, she could feel that his shirt had become sopping wet with her tears. She wanted to apologize, but couldn't get the words to form.

"I…" she squeaked out… "I… I miss him." It was all she could get out in a quiet, raspy voice. Her lip started to quiver, and water started to form in her eyes again.

"I do too, Court. I do too." He felt awful for her. Her and Grand Slam… they really were perfect for each other. "He was like a brother to me… him and Flash both were. All of them, really. All of 'em. But you know what? We're still here, and so are most of the others. Ya know, The Slam would have wanted you to press on. He wouldn't want to see you like this."

Cover Girl could hardly believe what he was saying; this really wasn't his style. But he seemed to mean it. She wondered if he even realized how… how normal, and emotional, he was being.

"He loved you, you know. But he'd want you to keep moving on. With or without him. He's still with you anyway, you know. So don't quit on him, tank girl. Ya hear me? If you don't, I'll sneak into your room and replace your mascara with motor oil and your blush with grease."

For the first time, through the flooding tears she poured… she smiled. She knew he couldn't see her smile, of course, but she knew he was right about her moving on. Even if he was starting to turn into his normal jerk-self.

Of course, she couldn't let _him_ know he was right. Even if it was the first time he'd _ever_ been right.

But she did nod… reluctantly.

Clutch made a contorted face with a sudden realization of a mistake that he made. "Oh man, I actually called him "The Slam"... I swore I was _never_ gonna do that! That punk... I guess he still gets the last laugh after all."

Cover Girl laughed a little, wiping her tears away, still leaning on Clutch.

They held each other for a few more moments. When they pulled away, it was as if they started to re-enter real life. A life where military came first, and a life without Grand Slam. But a life that continued to exist as every second of the clock ticked away.

Awkwardness befell both of them. Cover Girl, without saying a word, turned back down the hallway. Stiff and off balance, she walked away rapidly.

Clutch stood there for a moment, stealing one last look as Courtney walked down the hallway; he wasn't sure what to think. So much had happened lately. Thoughts were swirling in his head. He turned around and started to walk back inside his room.

But he froze in his tracks, holding the door jam. Looking inside his empty, dark room, he held his breath. He looked down the hallway, watching Courtney walk away and turn the corner, disappearing from his sight. Clutch looked again inside his room. His eyes drifted towards the night stand by his bed… specifically, the drawer containing his gun.

But his eyes instead caught the many pictures upon his night stand. Pictures of happier times; of the best times of his life. Pictures with Grand Slam, and Flash, and all the others. It almost brought a smile to him.

But in particular, one thing stood out above all the rest. It was hard to see; barely noticeable to the naked eye. And as small as the pictures were, what he saw was smaller. So small, in fact, he shouldn't have even noticed it.

The cross. The cross in the picture that hung around Father O'Malley's neck. Somehow, it gave him just a little bit of peace. He wasn't quite sure how, and it wasn't a lot of peace… but it was just enough. Just barely enough.

Which was more than he had felt in a long, long time.

_Life goes on, _he murmured to himself, accepting the grim and stark reality. A long road lay before him, but it wouldn't always be a road of pain. It was now, of course… but it wouldn't always be that way. Storms never last forever.

Clutch closed the door and turned around. He started walking down the long hallway.


	38. Ch X2

**CHAPTER X: EPILOGUE - BOROVIA**

[Sir, I found one still alive! The Borovian soldier said.

The on-scene Borovian commander, who had just arrived at the prison long after it had been nearly destroyed, was surprised at this new revelation. It was highly unlikely that anyone could have survived the carnage that befell the prison guards after the American soldiers had decimated their ranks. Mostly in disbelief… but with a healthier sense of curiosity, he walked towards the area where the soldier had found the body. He moved slowly forward with his arms still on his hips, imitating bravado but having a deep sense of caution.

The body was hardly recognizable - just a mass of bloody flesh crumpled on the ground. Flat on its stomach, very seemingly dead, the lifeless, hulking body lay sprawling within its own pool of blood. Slowly, one by one, the fingers of Overkill twitched, moving just slightly enough to reveal a shred of life flowing within…

[Tell Doctor Walker he needs to get here quick if he wants Overkill to live…]

….


	39. Authors Notes

**AUTHORS NOTES – MAJOR SPOILERS**

Here are some of the things I was debating on doing throughout the story, just so you know what I was thinking.

K.I.A. – I honestly didn't mean to kill off so many characters. I won't have many left for part 3 at this rate! Still, I enjoyed writing it and am glad to have received so many wonderful reviews. I won't promise everyone will survive next time, but hopefully it won't be as bloody!

Ripcord – I considered actually making him a traitor instead of "The Impostor" (I bet you can guess which Cobra agent I based The Impostor off of). However I already did have a traitor in their midst in AFW1, my first story. And even though the whole Ripcord/Scarlett thing stunk in the movie Rise of Cobra, that's not why I killed him off here, it just worked out that way.

Grand Slam – You have no idea how badly I did not want to kill him. I liked the way the story was going with him and Cover Girl, but that's the way it goes I guess. Everything pointed to him getting blown up so I went with it. Do I regret it? Yes, but again that's the direction I felt the story should have went.

Barbecue – This was the opposite of Grand Slam. I figured he would have died, but again as the story flowed it seemed that letting him live would have been in accordance with the storyline I had laid out.

Clutch – Ah yes. Clutch. I included him in a random epilogue. I thought he had an interesting story that I couldn't pass up. On a personal note – real life we're talking for a moment – I am serving in the military but have only seen combat from the air. Sometimes I can't imagine some of the stuff the guys on the ground have to deal with… much different and frightening than what I've had to deal with. I guess you could say the epilogue is something of a tribute to those scarred soldiers who have to fight different battles when they get home. His short story might have been the one that I took the most seriously and tried not to mess up.

Snake-Eyes – And of course our hero. Believe it or not I considered having him go off the edge of the cliff. I didn't want to, but again it was a realistic option I did not rule out believe it or not. I know, I can hear you booing me right now! To be honest, I'm glad I didn't. But tell me…. Have you ever wondered if Snake-Eyes would end up retiring and marrying Scarlett, OR… would he end up going down fighting? We'll see what happens if/when I write AFW3…..!

Scarlett – My biggest regret was I couldn't have more Snake-Eyes/Scarlett time in the story. Really I only had at the beginning and the end. I'm afraid so far AFW3 looks to be the same way, but we'll see (especially since I don't have the entire storyline written out yet).

Scalpel – He's still out there, isn't he….?

Snake-Eyes AND Scarlett – Well, this is the main reason I started writing. I love the pairing of these two characters; it has a poetic beauty and the beast ring to it. Not to mention the characters are just so interesting and exciting; I tip my hat to Larry Hama for this one. I think I've told a few people that the young Scarlett and old Snake-Eyes relationship, especially in AFW1, was inspired by the movie Sin City (Bruce Willis and Jessica Alba… don't remember the characters names). Some day I hope to write other takes on Snake and Scarlett; I have quite a few ideas in my mind but not sure if they will ever make it to paper.

The Story Itself – Again, the core of the story is supposed to be Snake and Scarlett, though it was hard to pull off in AFW2. Not to mention filling it with typical military action as well as their romance, not to mention regular character development. Just so you know where I was trying to go…!

Thanks again for reading! If I think of anything else to add in the creation of the story, I'll repost and add it here…


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